Death's Embrace
by Lookpastthemask
Summary: AU. When Erik sets his sights on a young dancer will he learn what love is or will he be consumed by hate?
1. A Passing Glance

He watched the dancers twirl and move about the stage from his perch in box five. They danced to an unheard music, Antoinette directing and guiding. The opera they practiced for was Hannibal, one of his favorites. As they danced he heard the swell of music in his head. It took over his senses and made his abandon all reason. He closed his eyes and envisioned the audience filled the production in its peak and the whole cast come together in one last crescendo. His thoughts were interrupted by Antoinette scolding a girl for over exaggerating her moves. Eyes snapping open, he looked down at the stage as Giry had pulled a dancer to the side and was talking to her.

This particular dancer had caught his attention on several occasions, standing apart from the others as exceptional. As she stood beside Antoinette her sharp and flawless beauty sparkled brightly. Her hair was like rivers of silk cascading down her back, its blackness all the more radiant against her porcelain skin. Bright green eyes blazed, passion and love set deep in her irises. She had a fragile body and full round breasts that looked out of place on her small frame. Her face was full of quite innocence, which was complimented by her shy and reclusive personality. He'd taken an instant liking to her for this reason. Many a night while he prowled the theater he'd find her in the small chapel reading a book, delighting in the warm glow of an oil lamp. He enjoyed watching her read book upon book, her brow furrowing as she scanned each page with silent intensity. His heart fluttered at the sound of each page turn and tiny gasp of delight that passed her lips

A life on knowing nothing but the sound of his own voice and sad, sorrowful music had taken a toll on his ability to connect with other humans. The world had shown him no compassion during his life so in return he showed no compassion. Most of his life had been spent beneath the Opera house in the catacombs, his own private hell. He looked at himself as a monster, not a man. Why would a man have to hide his face? He knew he could have been a handsome man, the left side of his face a testament to this. A mask hid his left side from the world but more importantly, from himself. It was his only barrier between a dream world and the reality that stared him in the face when he dared look into a mirror. No one would ever know what it was like to look through these haunted eyes.

When he spotted this young woman for the first time he didn't expect an attachment to grow. His heart belonged to music, not a woman. He felt a pull toward this beauty that he had never felt before. It wasn't so much her looks but her grace and poise, the way she carried herself day to day. Yet, while he felt all these feelings of love he also hated the way she made him feel. Curse anyone who stole him away from his craft for even a moment. But now, as he stared down at her taken her position once more, he felt that quiet and distant warmth that consumed his entire being. He also realized something else, her beauty made him want to sing. So as he continued to watch her move about the stage he felt a name slip from his lips,

"Claire."


	2. A Note From Above

**I thought I'd write one of these little things up here. No direct mention of our Phantom on this chapter but he does interact with Claire. If you haven't noticed already, Christine does not exist; I'm giving Erik a clean slate. If this bothers you…don't read it. I think I'll survive. **

She felt eyes on her as Madame Giry called her over to talk. Pushing a strand of loose hair back behind her ear she scanned the empty auditorium. Her eyes wandered to box five where she felt the eerie presence. She shook off the feeling and turned to Madame Giry.

"You wanted to see me?" Claire asked. Madame Giry nodded.

"I've noticed your improvement, child. You've easily mastered all the dances I've taught you, yet you won't take on any of the solos I've offered. What is keeping you from excelling?" Claire looked into the elder woman's eyes and saw only concern and kindness. She could see when Madame's daughter Meg got her sweet disposition.

"There's nothing wrong. I just don't think I'm quite ready to take on that more daunting task." Madame Giry nodded and smiled. She put a hand on Claire's shoulder and gave it a gentle squeeze.

"When you are ready," she reassured Claire. With a heavy heart Claire returned to her place in line and continued the lewd and exotic dance. Claire knew she had the talent to take the lead in any dance.

She had come to the Opera Populaire at age fifteen looking to excel in her talents as a dancer. She came from a wealthy family, the Lafayette's. Her dad was a merchant and had made vast amounts of money doing his craft. But like most men he wanted his daughter to marry into a noble family and play the good house wife. Claire had not wanted this. For years she had taken dance lessons from a private teacher and was passionate about continuing her craft in a more professional setting. Behind her parents back, her dance instructor had taken her to the Opera Populaire to see about continuing her studies there. Upon seeing her dance Madame Giry had more then delighted to take Claire as a student.

Upon telling her parents this news they brushed it aside. It was silly for a girl of her age to be making such announcements. She knew they didn't take her seriously and she knew what had to be done. The night before she was too leave, she had stood up from their formal dinner and declared,

"I'm going to the Opera Populaire tomorrow to continue studying dance. Madame Giry thinks I have talent." Her father's face had flushed a deep red and he'd also risen.

"You will not disobey us like this, Claire! You are a young lady and as my daughter you are expected to act like one!" Her father yelled this was such anger and malice that Claire almost backed out of her plans. But, that night she made her final decision and packed her bags. Her parents had gone to bed without saying another word to her. She had slipped into sleep that night with a heavy heart and a tinge of excitement for what lie ahead of her. When she awoke the next morning the sun had just begun to rise. She quickly got dressed and headed down the stairs. The house was silent and each step she took echoed throughout their home. On her way to the front doors she had to pass by the library, the door had been open. Claire had moved with anxiousness the whole time and now that the door seemed within her grasp she'd treaded heavily past the library.

"If you leave you are never allowed in this home again," she had heard her father say, his voice full of an icy malice. Claire had almost dropped her bags in disbelief. She turned around to face her father. He was still in the clothes he'd been in the night before and smelled of alcohol.

"You are willing to throw me from your life so easily father?" Claire had asked, her eyes brimming with tears. He had stared at her for what seemed like an eternity before he had replied,

"If you wish to run off and live the life of a commoner, I see no other choice." The tears threatened to cascade down her cheek but she held her own. She would not let him see how his words ripped at her heart.

"If that is how it is father," she had responded her voice hard and deep, "Then this is goodbye." With that she had turned from his life forever. She'd taken a carriage to the Opera and collapsed in the arms of the Madame and from the moment on she'd lived her life at the Opera Populaire. That had been two years ago. Over those two years she'd quickly become a favorite amongst the patrons of the theater and excelled in her craft. She'd become close with Madame Giry's daughter Meg, whom she confided in like no other. Late at night in the dormitories they'd stay awake for hours trilling over the latest gossip and events going on in the Opera. Claire enjoyed Meg's innocence and longed for her own.

The other dancer's didn't take as kindly to Claire. They loathed the fact that she danced and looked like an Angel. Most of the girl's also disliked how she stole all the attention when in the room. Men would simply drop at her feet and offer her the world to be hers for the night. She rarely accepted such invitations and when she did she felt unfulfilled and in need of more.

As the rehearsal came to a close it was nearing dinner and Claire was ravished. She couldn't wait to sit down to a hot meal. As she exited the wing with Meg at her side she looked into the empty wing. Most of the stage hands had already left for dinner or to return to their own homes. The many who lived in the Opera Populaire bustled about beyond the wing, out of sight for the moment.

"Come Claire, I think I might die from hunger," she said with a wide grin. Claire shook her head and looked back over her shoulder.

"I'll be there in a moment," she replied. Meg gave her a confused look and started to say something but decided against it.

"I'll be in the dormitory when you're ready come find me," Meg said and gave Claire a kiss on the cheek and dashed away. Now the wing was entirely empty. A chill ran down her spine. Leaning against a pole she closed her eyes and gently massaged her temples. She stood like this for a moment and let the silence settle in around her. That was when she heard the ruffle of paper above her head. Opening her eyes slowly she gazed up. A piece of paper spiraled towards her face. She gasped and moved out of the way. It landed on the floor gently by her feet. Claire looked up but saw no one. Where could this letter have come from? She stared down at it once more. A skull grinned up at her. Taking a deep breath she reached down and picked up the paper. She looked at the emblem with intrigue and then ripped it open. Her eyes fell to the messy scrawl which read,

_I've watched you for awhile my dear Claire. You are a marvelous dancer and I look forward to seeing you dance in the finished production of Hannibal. You are an exceptional beauty. I look forward to meeting you._

_O.G_


	3. An Unexpected Visit

**ONE REVIEW! I have never been happier. I hope it's not my last! Ok, I just found out that Phantom has been pulled from all theaters around me. How utterly depressing life is. So to help with my sadness I'm going to write a lot! Anyway, if anyone reading this is thinking "Claire is too perfect" SHE'S NOT. She's far from perfect as you will find out in a later chapter. She's dear to my heart so be nice! 333**

During Dinner all Claire could think about was the note which was tucked in the hem of her skirt. She felt it against her warm skin, an icy reminder of who lurked in the shadows. As Meg trilled over the latest gossip Claire smiled politely and added her own bits here and there. She didn't want anyone asking what was wrong. She knew the moment someone asked her that the truth would spill from her lips. Claire didn't want anyone to know about the letter since the sender wasn't quite loved around the Opera house. On occasion Claire would overhear someone talking about the notes he occasionally sent to the mangers of the theater. As far as she was concerned he had only ever sent messages to them. Now he had bestowed upon her a heavy burden.

Later that night while all the other girls slept in their beds, Claire was still up. She had given everyone the illusion that she was prepared to sleep. She wore her night slip and had tucked herself deep under the covers. After she was sure everyone around her had fallen into heavy sleep she sat up. Bringing her knees up to her chin she sighed. A window, directly above her bed, let the pale light of the moon in. This was the only light besides a dim candle that sat on her bedside table. She thought of home and wondered if her parents missed her. Did they even think of her as she did now? Once again she longed to hear her mother's soft voice whisper reassurances and praise in her ear. Have her father beam with pride at her politeness towards possibly suitors. More than anything, she just wanted to feel their warm embrace once again, too know that they were still a family. Tears collected in the brim of her eyes but she blinked them back. She had wasted too many on them already. She needed some time to herself.

Claire slipped out of her warm bed and onto the cold floor. She shivered and picked up the candle. Slowly and silently she slipped from the room and into the darkened corridor. The only light in this long hall was her candle; the only sound was her own breathing and light steps. She traveled quickly now, passing dark rooms and eerie corridors. At night the theater seemed dead and forgotten. It was the complete counterpart to daytime at the Opera Populaire.

She arrived at the entrance to the Chapel without any interruptions and moved down the steps that would lead her into the main area. It wasn't a large place of worship. Mainly it was a room for people to go when they wanted to pray or be alone with their lord. Claire found it a perfect spot to read or just be one with her own thoughts. The room was chilled and Claire shook, chills racing through her body. She placed her candle down on the large sill of a stained glass window and also took a seat there. Cold air seeped from cracks in the window but she didn't seem to notice. She was lost in her own thoughts.

What would her life have been like if she hadn't run from home? Would she be married to a young, handsome Noble man, bearing his child? Would she be still living at home with her parents in perfect harmony? All these notions raced through her head as she rested her head against the stone wall. The jagged texture of the stones cut into the back of her head. She ignored it and shut her eyes. Claire took in a deep breath and then began to quietly sing the words to one of the songs from Hannibal.

"Think of me, think of me fondly, when we've said goodbye," she sung, letting the melody caress and quiet her nerves. She by no means had an amazing singing voice but she had often entertained her parent's friends by singing short pieces from Opera's they frequently attended. It was a warm and soft spoken voice that could awaken a cold mans heart. Claire had slipped into a musical coma, her voice becoming stronger with each line. Her eyes remained closed as she envisioned a woman of unimaginable beauty and grace singing the song on stage, the audience taking in every word and movement. Claire smiled at this thought.

Then she heard a voice. Low at first, it joined in with her. It seemed distant and unsure of itself. It was a man's, his song consuming her own. Claire felt the melody die on her lips as the singing began to draw closer to her. It was a hypotonic and beautiful voice that dug deep within her and awoken an unseen feeling. Her eyes stayed closed and she brought her hands to her breasts. She could feel her heart beat wildly in her chest.

"We never said our love was evergreen," the voice was now mere feet from her. The tiny chapel was filled with his singing. She knew who it was but she couldn't bring herself to look.

That was when she felt a gloved hand on her bare arm. She melted beneath his touch. The hand ran up the length of her until she felt it graze the nape of her neck. A strand of loose hair that had fallen across her face was now gently pushed behind her ear. The singing had stopped and now and Claire felt the heat from his body. If she had wanted too she could have reached out and touched him but she didn't dare. She felt a single finger run from her temple down to her chin. Lips brushed past her ear making her gasp. Then she heard a voice in her ear, low and silky,

"Do not open your eyes Claire, for your eyes will only tell the truth." It was these simple words that bore deep into Claire's soul. So elegant and well versed they were.

As she took in his words she felt him draw away from her and recede into darkness. When she finally had enough courage to open her eyes he was already gone.


	4. Death's Head

**If you don't get this, this is the last chapter from ERIK'S POINT OF VIEW. Haha…Aylah. YOU FAILED LIFE! I just finished reading de book. Took me less than ten hours. Beat that…people. So I am simply filled with ideas. Not for this chapter, which you will notice. But I'd like to make my Phantom more like the one from the book, not musical. So…we shall see. Read and review! (Thanks for the reviews, they make my heart sing!) **

Ridel: Christine does not exist. AU means Alternate Universe. It is the same time in history but without Christine having ever come to the Opera house. I'm sorry for not making that clear. 

Erik watched as she silently exited her room and raced down the hallway. He had managed to track her movements easily and silently over the years. He knew her destination, and it did not surprise him at all. He had rather foolishly written her a note. The note didn't contain anything personal or revealing but Erik felt all the more bare having giving it to her. He just couldn't seem to stop himself from revealing his presence to this young beauty. He moved through passageways and through doors until he came upon the chapel. There was no easy way to conceal him in the small area so he waited until she had entered the building and then followed behind her. He watched as she set her candle down and then took a seat on the sill. She stared blankly off into the darkness.

Erik was moved by her piety. She seemed to have a faith which he would never be able to obtain. He longed to feel how others felt when they knelt before sculpted angels and wooden crosses. He moved forward a few inches then stopped. His presence would be felt and then this beautiful silence would be interrupted by her high pitched, terrified screams. He had often dreamed of coming to her and being able to move her with his song. Then she moved him with hers.

Although Claire sang softly, the music reached him. The song was familiar, an aria from Hannibal. She sang it with an unpracticed and innocent tone. It was a voice which he could perfect and mold into the voice of a prima donna. Erik watched her eyes slowly shut.

"Remember me, once in a while, please promise me you'll try," she sang. His eyes also closed, taking in her eloquent voice. He pictured her on stage, her voice perfected by his teachings. Erik opened his eyes. He knew what he was going to do and couldn't stop himself. Slowly he moved forward towards her. He knew she sensed him. Erik smirked and found that he felt more at ease then he thought he would be. He began to sing. The moment his voice began hers stopped. She seemed to be taken aback by the sudden involvement of his voice. His eyes wandered her small frame, longing to reach out and touch her.

She kept her eyes closed as he cautiously moved a hand towards her bare flesh. This would be the first time he had ever touched a woman. His hands, gloved, made contact with her warm flesh. He felt her shudder underneath his touch. What thoughts could be racing through her mind? He ran his hand up her arm, treasuring this moment as if it were his last. He wished to take off his gloves, feel her skin as it was meant to be felt. He knew his cold; death touch would make her cry out in fear. Erik couldn't bear to see her in distress, especially at his hand. The song which he had been singing died on his lips as he reached the nape of her neck. To kiss flesh so white would be close to heaven. Erik, lived in hell, he longed for heaven. He brought himself closer to her, his lips grazing her ear.

"Do not open your eyes, Claire, for your eyes will only tell the truth," he whispered. He'd meant that as a warning. To open her eyes would break the illusion and end the moment. Erik knew, having said that, she would open her eyes because it was human nature to do so. He would not let her look upon him yet, lest he be caught off guard. The later was not likely. Erik removed his hand and drew away from her. The warmth her tiny body had emitted now left him. He felt as cold as death again. Drawing back into shadow he raced up the stone steps. To her it would be like he'd never even been there, a realistic dream. Erik felt a pain and entered a passage in the wall. He warned his labyrinth for what seemed like days. His mind was clouded with emotion and regret. He hadn't even begun to fully comprehend the anguish he'd brought upon himself having drawn so close to another. Erik retreated to his underground house, making sure no one spotted him. When he arrived on the other side of the underground lake he turned his attention on his music. The sound of the organ filled his lair, his home.


	5. Two Notes and a Rose

**Please excuse this chapter; I'm having some problems clearing the gap between the last chapter and the next interesting one. Oh, damn. **

**This is a long chapter but with good reason. No Erik in this chapter nor the next, but then you get a bunch of Erik so isn't that just fun? **

Claire could not shake off the feelings from the previous night. It stayed with her all throughout rehearsals the next day. As they practiced the closing scene in Hannibal an announcement was made. The ownership of the theater was to be taking over by two men, Monsieur Firmin and Monsieur Andre. They greeted the cast with enthusiasm and delight. Firmin made a rather ineloquent speech,

"My partner and I are thrilled to be a part of this theater and its productions. We look forward to meeting all of you and watching you perform." His eyes wandered the dancers. Claire felt his eyes fixate on her for a moment and then continue to move down the line. She didn't want to even begin to imagine what was going on in his mind. Andre nodded his head and added,

"We will be attending the performance tomorrow night. We expect a full house so do your best!" The two men smiled at each other. Madame Giry entered the room carrying a letter in hand. Claire caught a glimpse of it out of the corner of her eye. Her heart stopped when she saw the familiar red skull.

"Monsieur's I have a message for you," she said, "It is from the Opera Ghost."

"Oh dear god, who in heaven's name is this Opera Ghost you speak of?" Monsieur Andre asked snatching the letter from Madame Giry. He opened it up rather hastily and read aloud,

_I welcome you to my Opera House. In the memorandum-book you will find several clauses which speak of my required needs. I am sure Monsieur Poligny will show this too you before he leaves you too your duties. Your obedient servant, _

_O.G _

"What kind of nonsense is this?" Firmin roared looking at the faces surrounding him.

"Did our previous managers not tell you of the Opera Ghost? He is not to be take lightly," Giry said, "He requires that box five always be kept empty for him and that his salary of 20 thousand francs a month is paid in full." Monsieur Firmin and Monsieur Andre looked as if they'd been slapped.

"20 thousand Francs a month!" exclaimed Andre and Firmin threw the letter to the ground.

"I would like to speak to Monsieur Poligny at once!" he said and stormed out with Andre at his heels. As soon as they were out of ear shot the whole stage lit up with delighted conversation. Meg turned to Claire.

"This is all so exciting! All this commotion the night before Hannibal opens! Hopefully the new managers won't make too much of a fuss. The Phantom of the Opera doesn't take too kindly to people disobeying his orders." Claire turned pale as she remembered her encounter from the pervious night.

"What's wrong Claire?" Meg asked, concern filling her voice. Before Claire had a chance to answer, Madame Giry came up beside Meg.

"Meg, you know you are not to speak of the Opera Ghost. Why must you always disobey me so?" Meg looked down at her feet, refusing to meet her mothers scolding eyes.

"I didn't hold my tongue and for that I am sorry," she apologized. Claire looked to Madame Giry and watched as the anger slipped from her face and was replaced by a warm smile.

"Watch what you say next time for you never know whose listening," Giry said and went over to another group of dancers. The rehearsals continued without interruption and everyone parted for lunch. All was looking well for opening night. Claire and Meg walked side by side through the long hallways of the opera house. Racing up the stairs they reached the mess hall where most of the residents of the Opera House dined.

"Want to go out and eat?" Meg asked, stars in her eyes. Claire giggled.

"I don't have any money," she said, disappointment apparent. Meg smiled and replied,

"I have some saved. It's in the wardrobe in the dormitory. Let's go get changed and then find a small café were we can sit and talk. We haven't done that in awhile!" Meg exclaimed, her voice filling with delight. Claire couldn't resist the invitation and was quick to race up to the dormitories with Meg close behind her. It would be nice to get out of the Opera house. Meg and Claire, not sharing the same room, went into their own and got ready. Claire changed into a long skirt and white blouse. It was spring, still cold enough for long skirts and just warm enough for loose fitting blouses.

"This should be good enough," Claire said too herself. She turned to leave the room but her attention was suddenly averted to her bed. Upon her pillow there lay a single, red rose and beside it a note. Claire looked about the room expecting there to be someone there but she found no one. Cautiously she approached her bed and picked up the letter leaving the rose for the time being. She recognized the emblem immediately and tore it open.

_I am sorry for last night. It seems I acted out of turn. A chapel is by no means a place where a man and a woman should feel such things. I ask you, Claire, if you won't come to me tonight? I have long waited the moment when we should meet. You will be in no danger, so long as you do not touch the mask. I anxiously await tonight. _

_O.G_

Claire looked at the letter a moment longer and then placed it under her pillow. She now had the rose to deal with. It was a normal rose, except this one was adorned by a black ribbon. It looked beautiful and sad all at the same time. She picked it up and studied it. Just a normal rose, but what did it mean?

"Are you quite ready yet?" she heard Meg say and she spun around nearly tripping over her own two feet. Meg gave her a puzzled look and her eyes fell to the Rose.

"Ah, you didn't tell me you had an admirer? Do tell!" Meg said. Claire blushed and pushed a strand of hair back behind her ear.

"It's nothing really," she explained, "It's just another one of those silly men looking to get me into bed." Meg's mouth formed a silent O and then motioned for Claire to hurry along. Claire turned back to her bed and removed the black ribbon from the rose. She then placed it gently on her bed side table and left the room.


	6. A Brief Talk

**After a truly shitty day I find it necessary to write a lot to get my mind off all the stuff I've been thinking about. I hope you enjoy this chapter. Erik is in the next chapter….so…yay. **

Meg and Claire found a small café near the opera house. The warm spring day made their conversation seem all the more worthwhile.

"So, there's a rumor around the Opera House that Sorelli is sleeping with the Comte Philippe De Changy," Meg began, jumping into gossip, "He's the older brother of the Vicomte Raoul De Changy. They attend the Opera frequently." Claire nodded, her eyes glazed over and staring past Meg. Meg cocked her head to one side and turned to see what had captured Claire's gaze. There was nothing there. Claire was simply lost in her own thoughts as she had been lately.

"Claire, what's wrong?" Meg asked. Claire shook her head, clearing her mind, and smiled weakly.

"Nothing," she said under her breath, "Just thinking about something."

"You couldn't possibly be thinking about the man who left you that rose?" Meg inquired, her voice filled with dripping anticipation. Claire looked down at her hands which anxiously fiddled with the napkin in her lap.

"It's nothing really," she said, "It's just another man wanting to have me for his own carnal pleasures. I'm sure it's nothing." Claire seemed to be reassuring herself of something. How could it be nothing? The Phantom of the Opera had taken a liken to her and only her. What had possessed this mysterious man of darkness to come to her so openly the other night in the Chapel?

"I'm sure it's nothing, just like it always is." Meg looked a little hurt by Claire's obvious lack of trust.

"I'm not hiding anything from you Meg. I just don't want to talk about it because it's not important." Meg nodded and picked at the salad she had ordered earlier. Claire's own meal lay untouched in front of her.

"Alright, I trust you," Meg said casting one last glance at her friend before the two ate their lunches in peace.

They soon returned to the Opera house to Madame Giry's scolding words. They had over stayed their welcome at the Café and now had to rush back into their dancer clothes to rehearse the numbers once more. Claire ran up into the dormitories and barreled into her room. She was barley in the door when she began to undress and change into her loose fitting clothes she danced in. When she had accomplished this she turned to her bed and reached under her pillow. The note she had placed there only an while ago was now gone. In its place there was an unopened letter. This time it was simply addressed to her without the bother of the skull seal. She opened this one post haste.

_See you soon._

_O.G_


	7. The Quiet

**Sorry about not updating right away. I was feeling ill and didn't get on the computer yesterday. Alright, thanks for the kind reviews. I appreciate it more than you will ever know. Phantom might come off as kind of needy BUT if you've read the book you'll know that Erik is the groveling type. My Erik is such a mix you'll wonder what the hell is wrong with me. Now onto some Erik! **

Claire climbed the stairs to the roof. She was no longer in control of her body. The note had held such a power over her that she didn't even seem to know what she was doing. No one would be on the roof this time of night, which Claire was thankful for.

"_It was planned this way,_" she thought to herself. The ascent seemed to take ages. When she finally reached the door that would lead to the roof she stopped short. What if this was just some cruel joke? She would never forgive herself for being so foolish.

Anticipating fairly cold weather, she pulled her satin cloak around her shoulders and held it closed with her own two hands. The buttons that had once come up the front had long since fallen off. She refused to get rid of it because of its personal value to her. It was the only thing she had left to remind her of home.

Claire scolded herself for being so bold and adventurous. Strange notes left on her bed were not something to take lightly. Yet, she'd felt no malice or spite held in those simple words. They'd seemed hurried and anxious, but not dangerous.

She opened the door. As she had expected the air was bitter, the wind biting at her bare arms. Massive stone gargoyles towered above her and obscured her view. Claire turned back as the door snapped shut. It was silent now. She felt as if the statues were laughing at her, mocking her for being so bold. She walked out onto the immense and wide roof which seldom had people on it during the early spring. She didn't need to worry about being seen and questioned. Claire found her footsteps loud and awkward as she moved along the roof.

"Why am I such a fool?" she said aloud, "Any sane person would have known better."

"But my dear, you are quite sane," a low voice uttered. She stopped dead in her tracks. She hadn't even heard anyone moving behind her. She began to turn around.

"Don't turn around just yet," the voice commanded. She knew who it was, the Phantom. Her breath hitched in her throat. She didn't know whether to obey his command or turn and flee. She was at a cross road and was unsure of where to turn next.

"You wish for me to not turn around when you are the one who asked me to come here? That is foolish," She countered. Claire thought she recognized a familiar sigh, one she'd heard before, and then felt a hand on her shoulder.

"As you wish," he reluctantly said, and turned her around. He removed his hand from her shoulder as she completed her turn. He backed up a few feet. Now they were face to face for the first time. She had expected a hideous, deformed man, but instead was greeted by an entirely different sight. The left side of his face was covered with a white mask, endowed with all the ridges and parts a normal face would have minus the expression and depth. She could see the faint glow of an eye set way back in its socket. That was all that was visible of the left side. The right side of his face was so normal it was entirely a shock. He was a rather handsome man, even with the mask covering half of his face.

"Hello?" Claire ventured, taking a step forward. She realized what she did was foolish, letting her guard down because of his appearance. Mentally scolding herself, she retraced her step backwards. The man, whom had tensed up at her sudden movement, relaxed.

"So we finally meet?" he said in a voice barely audible, even in the quiet. Claire looked down at her feet, unsure of what was happening.

"Finally?" she asked. She looked at the man who hadn't taken his eyes off her once.

"Yes, my wanting to meet you has been a long time coming," he said matter-of-factly. He looked like a Phantom in his black suit and long, dark cape. His skin was a sickly pale, as if he hadn't seen the light of day in awhile. His appearance, however, was not what made Claire feel small and weak. It was his presence. The way he stood there so calmly with no emotion on his face. This all frightened her.

"I'm sure you already know the name that has been given to me around the Opera House, but allow me to introduce myself anyway. I am the Opera Ghost, the Phantom of the Opera. The name which I have given myself you will learn in time." More quickly then she could even fathom, she found the Phantom beside her. He towered above her, encasing her in his cold presence. Two strong arms wrapped around her body and pulled her close to him.

"So long I have longed to touch another human being like this," he said, lowering his head so his lips were once again directly beside her ear. His hands sensually ran down her front and then back up, receding just enough so when he passed over her breasts he barley touched them.

"You make me feel things I have never felt before Claire," he whispered, his voice a dangerously low pitch, "If you would just say the word I would be yours. A servant too your every whim. I've only just met you now but I already want you in so many ways. Be mine Claire, and you will never be lonely again." Claire melted under his touch. His gloved hands were warmed by her skin. She felt their bodies become one in that moment as his lips dared to graze the skin of her neck. She couldn't fight him; she was lost amongst their passion.

"Love me, that's all I ask of you," she heard the Phantom say and then the sound of the door opening brought her back to her senses. His warm body was gone now, replaced by reality.

"What are you doing up here Claire?" she heard Meg say, "My mother said she saw you come this way. Do you want to catch a cold and die?" Claire stared dreamily out at the city.

"Meg, I could die right now and I wouldn't even know it."


	8. An Intriguing Discussion

**Time to update my story! I don't really have much to say as of late but don't except another chapter until Saturday night at the earliest. This is due to the fact that I have a busy weekend ahead of me. I don't know where this story is going but I'm trying to move it along as much as possible each chapter. There will be more Erik, dialogue, and background history in the upcoming chapters. I knew you were just dying for it! Alright, enough idle chit-chat and on with this story!**

After Claire had left the roof with Meg she felt that same heavy burden on her shoulders, the one he had recently placed there. She had come face to face with her silent stalker and now questions formed in her mind. She didn't know what to make of the things he had said to her.

"What are on earth were you doing on the roof Claire?" Meg asked as they entered the dormitories. Meg didn't enter hers and instead followed Claire into her own. The other dancers were there, talking a mile a minute. When Claire entered they glanced in her direction but besides that took no notice of her. Instead, a few ran up to Meg and started rambling. Meg was more then happy to give them her undivided attention. Claire was usually left out of such discussions but today, a petite dancer named Sophie decided to bring her into the conversation.

"Who on earth sent you that rose Claire?" Sophie asked. The room fell into a hush. It was a favorite pastime of the younger dancers to tune into anything involving romance. Claire felt her cheeks blush.

"Just an admirer of sorts," she answered, hoping that it was sufficient enough to quiet their imaginations. It obviously was not.

"Oh, but it's just dripping with Romance," Claudia, one of the younger brats of the Opera House, added. Meg turned to Claire and said,

"Come on Claire, do tell us!" She felt all their eyes burning into her. They seemed to know what she was thinking, calculating her every move. Claire made a move for her bed but they followed. It was a comical thing, them copying her every move. She almost felt herself burst into laughter.

"He's a handsome man," Claire heard herself say, "His touch is cold but in his eyes there's a hint of warmth. He has the voice of an angel. It's as if his soul is on fire." The room was silent. They all seemed to be taken in Claire's somewhat passionate response.

"He must be some man," Meg said, "How I wish I could find someone like that!"

"Do we know this suitor?" Sophie asked. She seemed to be on the edge, ready to jump off if she didn't get the information she wanted. Claire grinned and now walked over to her bed. She didn't even care that the others drew closer to her. She sat down on the edge of her bed and picked up the rose which still lay on the bed side table. She twirled it between her two fingers.

"Someone must care an awful lot to take the thorns off," Claudia said, her voice full of longing. Claire nodded and placed the rose back down.

"Do we know this man?" Meg asked, taking a seat by Claire on her bed. She shook her head and began to mess with a strand of fabric that hung from her blouse.

"I don't know if you do," Claire responded, "I haven't really talked to him yet." The truth was, she didn't know if she wanted to get to know him. The Phantom, up until tonight, had been just a story. Now he was real.

Claire remembered the things he had said to her on the roof. How he wanted her to love him and no one else. This was a lot of ask of her.

"_How much does this man know about me?_" Claire thought.

"Claire, you are such a lucky girl," Sophie said, interrupting Claire's busy thoughts, "You're beautiful, an amazing dancer, and have this admirer who seems charming beyond my imagination." Claire tried to take the compliment seriously but she knew Sophie was just trying to get more information out of her.

"Thank you," she said anyway, "Now, I think I'm going to sleep now. No more questions please." The girls shrugged their shoulders and went back to their own conversations. Meg still sat with Claire on the bed.

"Who is it Claire?" Meg asked, "I know it's no one I know or you'd have told me by now." Claire shifted uncomfortably and smoother out her skirt.

"Just a man Meg," she responded, "Nothing special." Claire could tell that Meg was hurt. It wasn't like Claire to keep things from her friend. Meg stood up and left the room without even saying goodnight. Claire felt defeat. After all that had happened this day she needed sleep. She changed into a night gown and got beneath the covers. The room was chilled and she shivered despite the wool blanket that covered her. Soon, everyone else had gotten into bed for tomorrow was an early day. They had practice and preparation for opening night. Claire's eyes fluttered shut as she slipped into a deep sleep.

In this sleep she dreamed. She had been on the roof once more and the Phantom was there. He held her close, his usual gloved hands unmasked. She felt his icy touch and trembled with lust. He had spun her around and grasped her tightly. Those eyes had glowed, lifeless and living all at the same time. Then he had leaned in to kiss her. That is when the dream became hazy and Claire was unable to remember the rest.

She was awoken by the dead silence of the night. The room was pitch black, the shapes of the dancers could be seen outlined in this abyss. She sat up, her breathing hard and ragged. The dream had seemed so real, as if he'd been sitting on the bed with her while she dreamt. She knew that was folly. Why would he come to her twice in one night? She laid her head back down on the pillow and stared at the ceiling. She traced patterns in the air with her finger, attempting to become tired.

That is when she heard a click. She didn't know what to make of it. The room had been dead silent up until that moment. Possibilities raced through her head. Could it have been one of the brats up and about or someone checking on them? Both she ruled out since she could now see everyone asleep in their beds and no one ever came to check up on them.

"Whose there?" she whispered into the darkness. No one stirred. She heard a ruffle of fabric and in an instant a large hand covered her mouth. She bit her tongue to keep from screaming. She looked up and saw him staring down at her, a smirk on his lips.

"Tomorrow night you will stand in for Sorelli," he said softly, "I will make sure you are the star." Her eyes grew wide at this statement. He uncovered her mouth and she got a good look of his gloves. Oh, what was his un-gloved touch like?

"I will come to see you," he continued, "Sometime soon." He ran his hand down her cheek. Their eyes were locked in a passion play. He gently removed his hand from stroking her cheek and got up.

"Go to sleep now my child," he whispered, staring at her with lustful innocence. She obeyed, closing her eyes and falling back into a now dreamless sleep.


	9. Sorelli's Bad Break

**I'm home sick so I've decided to update so you better be happy! I'm addicted to writing this story so if a few more chapters pop up don't be surprised! And this one is going to be short; the next chapter will be long, sensual, and just plain funky. **

The next night, the Opera House was a bustle of commotion. Outfits were getting their last minute repair, corsets being quickly put on, props being shoved into the hands of their respectful owners. The energy could be felt by everyone. The audience had just begun to pile into the theatre. Claire was getting into her outfit in the dancers small, cramped dressing room. She was already running behind, her and Meg opting for a quick walk around the Opera House. They had arrived just in time to be shoved into the dressing room by Madame Giry. Claire hadn't the feel of this particular fabric against her skin. It made her itch all over.

"Why do we always get the itchy material?" Claire asked as Meg laced Claire's outfit up the back.

"Because we're dancers," she answered matter-of-factly. Claire accepted this answer and let Meg finish lacing up her costume. The two of them then exited the dressing room and began moving towards the left wing where they were going to enter during the first act. Just then a loud cry rang out. Meg and Claire turned to each other, their faces pale. They raced in the direction they heard the distressed scream.

They came upon a sight that made Claire's blood run cold. Sorelli, the lead dancer, lay sprawled out on the floor.

"What has happened?" Madame Giry said, breaking through the crowd to see what all the fuss was about. Her face went ashen at the sight of the fallen dancer.

"What's wrong mama?" Meg asked grabbing the sleeve of her mother's shirt. Giry removed her hand and knelt down beside Sorelli.

"Can you hear me?" Madame Giry asked. Sorelli groaned and her eyes opened.

"I can't feel my leg," Sorelli uttered and then slipped into unconsciousness again. A silence had fallen over everyone surrounding the scene. Claire was now reminded of the Phantom's words,

"_Tomorrow night you will stand in for Sorelli, I will make sure you are the star." _

Now all she could feel was guilt. Was she the reason their star dancer had taken a nasty fall? Claire wouldn't be able to forgive herself let along dance. A few of the stage hands had now lifted Sorelli and were carrying her back towards her dressing room where the doctor would look at her leg. Madame Giry moved everyone along but motioned for Meg and Claire to stay. Claire felt her face flush.

After everyone had dispersed Giry came over to the two girls.

"Sorelli will not be dancing tonight," she said, her eyes on Claire, "You will be taking her place."

"But Madame I couldn't," Claire protested. Madame Giry shook her head.

"Nonsense, you are more than capable of taken on her part. Go back to costume and hurry, I don't think size will be an issue but we must make haste. The curtain goes up in less than an hour!"


	10. Into the Mirror

**This may be similar to how Christine was accosted from her dressing room, but remember, this is a story, and I can do what I want. This chapter isn't my favorite but it's the longest!**

The performance was magnificent. Claire could tell that her flawless dancing had captured the audience's attention just as Carlotta had entranced them with her operatic voice. As she moved backstage admirers showered her with praises and flowers. She was being led rather quickly through all this by Madame Giry.

"Sorelli is not in her dressing room tonight," Giry said, "You may use it." Claire once again felt the flush of guilt course through her body. She knew some of these events had to be her fault. Madame Giry led her straight to the dressing room and moved to unlock the door but found it was already open. They entered to a fantastic sight. Flowers adorned every inch of the dressing room.

"Usually such praise is reserved for the Prima Donna but it seems you have out done even her tonight," Madame Giry said with a slight smile. Claire walked over to the night stand and stared at herself in the mirror. Her hair was pulled pup into an elegant French braid and her makeup was immaculately applied. She still wore the outfit from the last act and desperately wanted to get out of it. The corset was cutting into her skin like a knife. She sat down at the chair, continuing to stare at herself in the small mirror. She watched as Madame Giry came up behind her and began to remove the pins that held her hair up.

"You were wonderful tonight Claire," Giry said, removing the last pin and watching as Claire's hair fell in rivers down her back. Claire was not used to such praise. She had always been one of the Opera Brats, not the soloist.

"I wasn't that great Madame," Claire responded. Giry picked up a brush from the night stand and began to brush out Claire's hair. The feel of the bristles against her scalp relaxed her. She had been tense all night and now, finally, she could relax.

"You made the dance yours Claire, something that Sorelli tries to do but fails," Madame Giry said. She finished brushing out Claire's hair and placed a gentle hand on her shoulder.

"You are gifted," Giry said, her grip on Claire's shoulder tensing up, "I'd hate to see that gift be wasted."

"You won't see it wasted, I promise," Claire said, a smile spreading across her face. Madame Giry seemed happy with this answer and removed her hand. She turned to the door. Claire turned her attention to Giry's leaving.

"There's something for you to wear when you wish to retire for the evening. I don't recommend staying up too late, however, you have a show to do tomorrow." With those last words Madame Giry left the room. Claire was now all alone. She got up from her seat and crossed the room to an armchair. A white night gown and robe were tossed over the side of the chair. She sighed and turned her attention towards something else, a full length mirror. She had never been able to look in one long enough to take in her reflection. She looked tired, aged beyond her years.

"I look like death," she said aloud and walked closer to the mirror. She had always hated the way mirrors mocked you. They showed you what you didn't want to see, the way you really looked. Curiously, as she got closer, she felt colder. It was as if the mirror emitted its own energy. Claire reached out and touched the glass.

"I'm being silly," she said and pulled away. She went back over the chair and picked up the night slip. She wanted to be out of the dressing room as quickly as possible. She changed into her sleeping garments and was preparing to leave the room. As she reached for the door knob she heard a familiar voice begin to gently sing.

"Wandering child, so lost, so helpless, yearning for my guidance," It was him. She didn't know whether to leave the room or stay. Her eyes went wide with surprise and fright. How could she hear him yet not see him?

"Why do you come to me?" she asked her voice loud and clear. There was no response. Claire reached for the door knob again and heard,

"Look at yourself in the mirror…I am there inside," the voice now spoke. It sounded distant now. Claire looked at the mirror and remembered feeling the cold air. She slowly moved forward until her nose was mere inches away from the glass.

"Come to me," she heard him say. It sounded as if he were right next to her. She pressed both of her hands to the glass and then gasped. She could see beyond the mirror, and there was the Phantom. She didn't even seem to notice being pulled into the mirror and hearing it lock quietly behind her. She was in a long tunnel, her hand grasped tightly by The Phantom. He lead her quickly down the passage and then into another. Everything looked the same to Claire as they passed through many levels of the Opera House. She had never known it to go so deep. He finally led her to the edge of an underground lake. She couldn't even begin to reason with this man who had in so many ways taken her hostage. She was being led by him. There was a force stronger than free will guiding her towards some unknown destination.

Claire was being whisked away across the lake now, the Phantom's eyes always staring straight ahead. She looked to the water and saw her reflection. She could read her own fear and excitement. She didn't know how long they'd been moving through the water but she soon found herself staring at something holey unbelievable. An underground lair, filled to the ceiling with candles. A giant Organ could be seen adorning a part of this cavern. There seemed to be rooms, each carved into the very foundation. The Phantom got out of the boat and offered her a hand. She took it. He lifted her up and out of the boat with grace and poise.

"Welcome to my home," he said, finally breaking the silence. Claire's eyes grew wide.

"Your home?" she asked stupidly. He had not let go of her hand yet, as he was leading her towards his organ.

"Yes," he answered. He stopped walking and let go of her hand. Confusion danced across her face. She watched as he took a seat at the Organ and began to play. The music he played was like angels weeping. Claire felt herself give into this man completely. She moved a few steps forward and then stopped herself. The music had stopped abruptly. She could see the Phantom's shoulders move up and down with his heavy breathing.

"Erik," he said softly.

"What?" she responded. Before her eyes he got up quickly and crossed over to her. Claire stumbled back a few steps. He grabbed her roughly by the shoulders and drew her close to him.

"My name is Erik," he said, his voice filled to the brim with venom. Claire felt her legs grow weak as she struggled mentally against this haunted creature. Fear had finally taken over her.

"Let me go!" she cried trying to pull away from him. His grip was strong and she was unable to break free.

"Say my name!" he roared. Claire turned her eyes away from him. She couldn't bear to look at him.

"Look at me!" he snapped. Claire gulped and slowly raised her eyes to his. She expected to see hate and horror in those eyes but all she found was hurt and sadness. Her fear didn't melt away completely but she gave in.

"Erik," she whispered. Silence followed. She was still in his grip but the anger that had once filled his touch was now ebbing slowly. She still stared into the eyes of this man named Erik, never once attempting to look away.

"Why am I here?" she asked, breaking the silence. His eyes filled with pain and he raised a shaking hand to her cheek and gently brushed it.

"You are here to inspire me," he answered, "Make my music mean something." Claire shivered.

"Will you ever let me go?" The silence once again dominated all. He released her from his grasp and looked weakly down at the ground.

"That is entirely in your hands my dear," he responded. Claire felt her heart beat wildly in her chest as she watched his walk up stone steps and disappear into another room.

"If I do as you wish?" Claire said loudly. She waited for his answer. It never came. He reappeared from another room and moved down to her. He grabbed her arm roughly and pulled her to him. Once again she found herself in that compromising position they'd left of with on the roof. This time he did not whisper in her ear. He sang.

"Help me make the music of the night." His hands took her hands in his own and moved them slowly across her body. Every inch of Claire began to tingle with passion. She didn't know this man or what he planned to do to her but at the moment that was all pushed from her mind. All she knew was his touch.

"Erik," she heard herself say. He pulled away.

"I am sorry," he uttered, "Please forgive me." Claire didn't answer. She looked at this man with all the pity and love she could handle at the moment.

"Come," she heard him say at last, "I will show you where you will sleep."


	11. Above and Below

**Oh my! I wasn't going to write another Chapter until Monday but all the nice reviews made me change my mind!  Oh, and I mentioned earlier that I was GREATLY mixing Erik's (Movie/Musical/Book), but I suppose it's based off the better looking Phantom. I love the idea of a man so tortured by the fact that one side of his face is that of beauty and the other side is monstrous. **

She slept. He had watched her slowly fall into troubled dreams, unbeknownst to her. The way she bit her bottom lip as she tossed amongst the silken covers had almost driven him mad with desire. These thoughts and feelings, once only felt when he played his music, now were felt without the aid of his tortured melody. He had never had the pleasure of having a woman in his home, captive or not.

He averted his eyes from the sleeping form of Claire. Erik couldn't bear to watch her a moment longer. He wanted to be beside her, feel the touch of another human being. He knew he could never have that. Music, the one thing in his life that would never abandon him, was the only thing allowed to make him feel these things. He loathed Claire for making him feel love, when she had never done anything for him. Yet, he also felt bound to her because of these feelings.

Erik walked over to his Organ and sat down. He needed to write, compose. His fingers lifted above the keys and then came crashing down. The haunting notes at once began to pour through him and into his fingers. He wasn't in control of his body anymore. He belonged to the music.

After an eternity of this loud playing he was pulled back by the sound of someone moving about behind him. He turned his head towards the noise. It was Claire, awoken from her sleep. She looked beautiful in her simple white dress, her hair slightly disheveled from her tossing and turning. He turned his head to one side, studying her liquid movements as she cautiously approached him.

"Your playing woke me," Claire said. Erik felt overcome with an even more foreign emotion, guilt. He had wanted her to sleep peacefully. He had forgotten she was there; he was so used to be alone. He got up from the organ and put his head in his hands, gently massaging his temples. He must have looked quite insane.

"I am sorry," Erik said quickly and turned his back to her. He felt like sobbing but held all that in. He was not one to show much emotion. Deep in thought, he missed her light steps coming up behind him. A gentle touch on his shoulder sent him into a rage. He shoved her to the ground and cried,

"Do not ever sneak up on me like that!"

He now stared down at Claire who had her head turned away from him in shame. Her breathing was heavy and her shoulders shook from silent sobbing. She looked so small and breakable lying there. His face, which had been contorted with anger, now slowly melted. He couldn't bear to see her like that.

"I'm not used to being touched," he whispered, "And I usually hear people coming, I wasn't paying attention." All of his apologies didn't seem to be bringing Claire to her feet.

Then, for the first time in his life, he allowed himself to show true compassion. Erik knelt down by Claire. He removed the glove from his right hand. He stared at the article of clothing for a moment and then tossed it aside. His hand found its way to her shoulder, his flesh touching hers for the first time. He heard her gasp. His hand must have felt cold and undead on her warm flesh. Without thinking he ran his hand down her arm until he reached her hand. Waiting, he gauged her reaction. She had stopped shaking but he could not tell if her tears had ebbed as well. He could have waited forever to receive her answer but she gave it to him. Her hand took his. Time stopped for a moment as this kind gesture sunk into Erik's mind and invaded his soul. She turned her tear soaked face to him and smiled.

Erik nodded and stood, helping her up as well. He let go of her hand. She seemed to mind but he did not care. He had betrayed himself by helping her from the ground. Next time she would not receive such pity.

"You have been a delightful guest but I fear it is now time for you to be leaving. Come, you are more missed above then below."


	12. Above and Below Pt 2

**Another chapter for my lovelies! I'm sorry for this chapter and the last for being short...they should really be together but since it's from two different view points I split them up. **

Claire slowly opened her eyes. She had suddenly been awoken by a foreign sound. She lifted her tired head from the pillow and propped herself up. For a moment she was unaware of where she lay. Her eyes darted around, helpless and lost. Black curtains hung around her, obscuring the sights which lie beyond it. Claire felt the covers which were silky and warm. These were not the covers she had in the dormitory.

Then it dawned on her. She was not in the dormitory. In fact, she was no where near there. She was below ground, in the Phantom's lair.

"How odd to awake to such nice conditions in such a lonesome place," she said softly. The music that had woke her still played on. The notes crescendo in one long, angst filled note, and then fell back into a soft and lonely melody. She silently got out of the bed, which she took in for the first time. It was in the shape of a swan, a prop of some sort that was adorned with many exotic looking pillows and fine linen. It was almost inviting enough for Claire to get back in and fall asleep.

"No," she reminded herself and looked to the black curtains. She reached out her hand and felt the material. It was rough and choppy and felt nothing like anything on the bed. She looked around for a way to raise it and found a tasseled rope. She looked above and noted it was attached to some sort of mechanism. Being the only thing in sight that could even be connected to the curtains, she gave it a pull. The curtains rose slowly.

She stepped out of the small chamber and was immediately assaulted by the image of Erik sitting at the Organ. He looked so absorbed in his music, his body moving with the notes. She couldn't help but smile at this sight. She tread as lightly as she could but she knew he'd hear. The music stopped and she stopped with it. She watched as Erik turned around and gazed at her, his eyes burning into Claire's own.

"Your playing woke me," she said softly, not wanting to anger him. She watched as his expression softened and then harden just as quickly. He rose from his seat and began to pace, his head in his hands. One side of her wanted to run to him and hold him, the other wanted to turn away and ignore him.

"I am sorry," she heard him say, his voice barley a whisper. He turned his back to her. Claire was at a familiar cross road, her heart torn in two different directions. This man had taken her hostage, treated her coldly. He had also shown her music and love in such a way Claire never dreamed possible.

She moved towards him. She knew it was foolish but her heart was in play and she could not deny its will. Claire now stood behind him. She took her hand and placed it on his shoulder. It was the most innocent of things, a kind gesture. So, when Erik viciously shoved her to the ground she was stunned. She fell in an awkward position, her hands catching her before her face slammed into the ground. The ground was cold and wet with moisture. She did not care. Claire felt as if she'd been shot through the heart and left for dead. She turned her head from him, not wanting to see his anger. That was when the tears begun to start. She couldn't stop them from falling. She was silently sobbing over a man whom she barley knew. How could she have been so naïve as to think he'd actually treat her with an inkling of kindness? Her hair hung in her face, shading her world in streams of black.

Then she felt the hand press lightly on her bare skin. The first reaction that passed through her was confusion. This hand, Erik's hand, was ungloved and touching her. It was cold, winter confronting a summers day. She accepted this icy hand and gave into the sensation of such contrasting temperatures. Her tears had subsided. She was wholly focused on his hand running down her arm. It stopped at her hand. She didn't know what to do. What did he want from her? Claire would have normally taken the hand without a thought, but this was different. Erik was no normal man. But, as always, reason flew out the window and she gently took his hand in hers. There was a moment of silent understanding and then she felt herself being helped to her feet. The instant she was standing upright on her own, he rather bitterly removed his hand from hers. Disappointment and shame flashed briefly in her eyes before she masked them with an uncaring gaze.

Noticing this Erik said,

"You have been a delightful guest but I fear it is now time for you to be leaving. Come, you are more missed above then below."

Claire didn't say anything in response to this. All she could do was accept the cold and uncaring answer and move on. She wished this to be the end of it all, this little game he was playing, but she knew it was not to be so. As she watched him walk over to a throne like chair stationed close to his Organ and pick up his cloak, she knew it had only just begun. She was now caught up in the sheer madness that called itself the Opera Ghost.


	13. Back to the Dressing Room

**Here's another chapter. I've decided to try and update daily if I can. I find writing this story fun. thanks for the reviews...again. **

He returned her to the dressing room and slipped away. Claire had been silent ever since his outburst and he hadn't said a word during the duration of their climb to the surface. It had not been an awkward silence, more like a thoughtful one.

Claire was now submerged in darkness. She began to grope around for a candle but was startled when one was suddenly lit. The darkness dispersed and Madame Giry appeared before her eyes. She sat in a large arm chair, her face contemplative.

"So, you have returned," Giry said, her eyes unblinking. Claire blushed and responded,

"What are you doing in here?" Claire watched as Madame Giry looked down at her hands and watched as they smoothed out wrinkles in her dress.

"It's early morning my dear. You never came to bed and I was worried," she answered, staring at Claire intently. Claire pushed her hair behind her shoulders and crossed over to the vanity table where she had sat earlier. She didn't sit down but merely stood there, her hands resting on it for support.

"I'm fine, I just couldn't sleep," Claire lied. Madame shook her head.

"I'm sure that's not true."

"And why wouldn't it be?"

There was a pause. Claire looked to Madame Giry who had now turned her attention towards the mirror.

"Because those who walk through mirrors are quite awake," she answered solemnly. Claire felt her blood run cold. How could Madame know this?

"What are you talking about?" she asked breathlessly. Madame Giry smiled weakly and stood.

"You know of whom I speak." Claire decided it would be wise to play dumb.

"And who is that?" Madame stared at the mirror, as if willing it to come to life.

"The Phantom." Claire was compelled to run over to Madame and shake her, make her revel how she knew all of this, but she kept her cool.

"Well, I've never met this Phantom, but I've heard he's quite cruel." She was of course referring to her earlier incident with him. She had never actually heard that he was a cruel apparition.

"He doesn't know better. He is blind to what is right because he has never had to worry about being right. He is a creature of loneliness, Claire, he does not know." Claire felt her heart break. She had known this, of course, but had never heard it spoken aloud. She wanted to run back to him in that moment, ask him why he chose a life of solitude. She wanted to know the whole story.

"Why me?" she asked, her voice barley above a whisper. She had just turned herself in with two words. Madame Giry now was assured of her suspicions. It was something she had to know, however. Madame Giry sighed.

"Your spirit I suppose. He's never allowed himself to love anyone Claire; he's bound to his music. For him to even show kindness to you must be difficult for him to deal with." Claire let all Madame Giry had just said sink in before she asked,

"But, when I first met him, he seemed so needy. Like I had no choice but to love or he'd die." Madame Giry turned from her vigilant watch of the mirror and walked over to Claire. She wrapped Claire in a warm hug.

"He might die," she said. Claire's heart stopped.

"What?" Madame Giry broke the hug and looked Claire in the eyes. She saw tears brimming there, threatening to spill over.

"When you loose something you love, a part of you dies. In his case, it might just consume him entirely, body and mind." Claire couldn't bear to look into those eyes anymore and see that sadness. It would kill her.

"He loves me?" That was when Madame moved away from Claire and towards the door. She opened the door and turned back to Claire.

"That is not for me to say," she responded, "Now come, eat breakfast with me. You must be famished, my dear."


	14. Passions Unfold

**No, everything is not going to stay happy. I wish it could but I have mental issues and need to torture my characters so they can't stay happy. Oh well. Review my lovely cherubs! **

Breakfast was spent in silence. Claire didn't need to say anything to Madame Giry that hadn't already been said. More then anything, she wanted to be alone. After Breakfast she retired to her room to rest a bit before she had to rehearse for the show that night. Her bed seemed awkward and uncomfortable compared to the bed she had slept on the night before. Closing her eyes, she saw him. She saw the look of anger that had been on his face a moment before she hit the ground and shivered. How could someone be so afraid of the human touch?

Claire was awoken from a light slumber by Meg entering her room. She felt the pressure on her bed and opened her eyes.

"It's time to rehearse for tonight," Meg said. Claire sat up and rubbed her eyes.

"How long have I been asleep?" she asked. Meg shrugged and got off the bed.

"Come on, we have to go!" she exclaimed and grabbed Claire's hand. She was helped up and then lead out the door by her flamboyant friend.

Rehearsals went smoothly and then they were let go until they had to change into costumes for the performance that night. Claire wandered off by herself, declining the invites she received from her fellow dancers to go out and shop a bit. She wanted to be alone and walk through the Opera House, learn its passageways and rooms all over again. Her first stop, however, would be the roof. She wanted to see if anything magical would happen this time.

She climbed the many flights of stairs until she reached the roof. This time she did not hesitate at the door. Claire walked out and was secretly thankful for the warm spring air. The day was overcast. Claire walked over to one of the stone gargoyles and sat down beneath it. She felt safe underneath these stone giants. She leaned back against it and sighed. Paris lay before her in its entire splendor.

Sometimes she imagined she had chosen the life her parents had wanted. She imagined being married to a handsome suitor who stole her heart and offered her the world. She lived in a spacious house with a beautiful green garden. Her kids played in the yard.

"Only a dream," she said.

"Dreams can sometimes become reality," she heard someone say. She turned her head and almost died of shock. Erik was staring blankly at her.

"You scared me!" she exclaimed. Erik smirked and leaned against the gargoyle. His silence was aggravating Claire.

"It would be most gentlemen of you to speak when spoken too," Claire snapped. His expression did not change but he came closer to her. She quickly got to her feet; she did not want him to have the advantage over her. She studied him, Madame Giry's words in her head.

"Will you not speak?" she queried. Erik turned his head, studying her features. He was close enough to touch but she did not dare. He however, did not seem to have the same restrictions. His hand, now gloved unlike before, reached up and cupped her face. She leaned into his hand and closed her eyes. His touch was like a drug and she was the addict, trying to quit but always coming back for more. She opened her eyes and took her own hand and placed it on his. Now, this obviously came as a shock to Erik for his eyes grew bigger and he began to say something.

"Now you can't speak," she said, "We're past words now." She lowered his hand from her face and reached out and gently stroked his cheek. His eyes closed. He seemed to be enjoying her touch.

"Pitiful creature of darkness, what kind of life have you known?" she whispered, her hand continuing its constant stroke of his cheek. At these words he opened his eyes and stared into hers.

"Why?" he asked, "After what I did to you?" Claire smiled, her eyes filling with tears.

"Because I," Claire began to say but Erik put a finger to her lips and hushed her.

"Do not say it," he commanded, "If you say it I will never be able to see you again." Claire's tears now trickled down her cheeks.

"But if I don't say it I will burst," she cried, "I hardly know you and I'm feeling all these things I've never felt before." He nodded and took her hand in his.

"You're but a child," he whispered, "These feelings; do you even know what they are?"

"I feel for you what you feel for your music," Claire answered, her angel face smiling at him. Her mind was racing and her heart was aching but she continued to stand there with him.

"And I feel, I feel so many things when I look at you," Erik said. Claire took Erik's hand in hers and brought it to her chest.

"My heart is now bound to you," Claire spoke. Erik moved closer to her, there bodies almost touching, the only thing between them was there twined fingers.

"Ask it of me and I will give you the world," he whispered bringing his face closer to hers.

She had dove too deep and could not turn back. Her lips now hovered inches from his, his warm breathe on her face.

"But I don't want the world," she whispered sensually, "I want you." Then there lips connected. The world was blocked out and all she could feel was the sweet pressure of his lips. Their mouths locked together in there own personal opera. Claire felt him melt under her touch and she reciprocated this feeling. She had found something she had never once found in a kiss before, love.

When the kiss was broken they both stared at each other breathing heavily. Erik's eyes blazed with emotion as he leaned in and took Claire's lips captive again. How long they stood on the roof top Claire did not know. All she could feel was his heart beat against her own. Claire pulled away and dropped Erik's hands.

"I must go, they'll wonder where I am," she said, "If you ask me I will come to you tonight." Erik nodded.

"I will come to Sorelli's dressing room once again," he said. Claire grinned from ear to ear and gave Erik a soft kiss on the lips.

"Tonight we will be together," she said softly. Erik nodded once more and moved out of view. Claire didn't dare follow him to see where he went.

Swooning from the kiss, Claire went back inside to get changed into her costume.


	15. Passions Unfold Pt 2

**I think I'm going to thank all my reviewers who have, in a continued effort, read my story. Without further adieu I give you _Aylah_, my friend and trusted grammatical error finder…yay! _An Anti-Sheep Cheese Muffin_…your reviews make me smile! _Countess Alana_ you da bomb! _Orli's EEPs Chica_ thanks for reviewing twice but where did you go man? _Sarah_ the same thing goes for you! Anyway, I just thought I'd do that because I'm in a really good mood. OK, on with the story! **

He wanted to apologize. The way they'd left things did not suit him at all. Her touch had frightened him, made him feel things he'd never felt before. Never had someone voluntarily touched him. If anyone had been forced to even lay a finger upon him it would have been with disgust and pity.

_He had to talk to her. _

The rehearsals went smoothly. So Erik, cleverly concealing himself in the column directly beside box five, had been able to take in Claire's performances thus far. He enjoyed her graceful movements and calm serenity that never left her face. She was also simply the most beautiful creature he had ever laid eyes on. Maybe his infatuation was partly lust but he longed to know her intimate details, not just the things he'd overheard her talk about.

Antoinette had talked to her about him, he knew this. He also knew that Antoinette had known he listened. The gentle and hurt words that had come from Claire's mouth pained him deeply and yet, when she had said,

"_He loves me?" _with such surprise and longing, he knew his heart belonged to only her. But he knew he could never tell her that.

So while he watched her dance on stage he knew he had to talk to her. When rehearsals had ended he quickly left the box and followed her. She stopped to talk to a few dancers who asked her out to shop but she declined. This news thrilled him. He watched as she slowly but surely made her way to the place he knew she'd go.

The roof was quiet, Claire not yet there. He hid behind a massive gargoyle, making sure she would not be able to see him when she entered the area. He listened carefully, wondering when she'd finally emerge from the inside. He heard the door open and close softly. He peered around the other side of the gargoyle and watched her approach his hiding spot. She was simply stunning in the outfit she'd worn during the rehearsals, one of the many costumes she'd change into during the Opera that night. It was a simple off the shoulder number, skin tight around the waist and looser around the breasts. She wore a worn skirt, which fit the part of the dance she would be dressed for.

Claire came closer to the gargoyle and sat beneath its shadows. Erik's breath caught in his throat.

"Only a dream," he heard her say. Finding this the only opportunity to reveal himself Erik replied,

"Dreams can sometimes become reality." He stepped out from his hiding spot and stared at her. She turned and the look of shock that crossed her face had almost made him burst into laughter. But instead of insulting her so, he kept a blank look on his face.

"You scared me!" she cried. Erik, not wanting to insult her by saying anything out of turn, stayed silent. He wanted to pour his heart out to her in that moment. He loved the way her expression soured at his leaning against the statue and her tiny hands balled up in fists.

"It would be most gentlemen of you to speak when spoken too," she snapped, confusing Erik. He had hurt her, shoving her to the ground when all she did was show him kindness, and now she wanted to speak with him? She got to her feet as he deliberately moved closer to her. He wanted to touch Claire.

"Will you not speak?"

Erik almost stopped coming closer to her. Her voice had lost its harsh and demanding tone and now was only filled with pain and confusion. He reached out his hand and cupped her face in his hand. He dared not get more intimate then this. Her eyes closed and Erik felt the passion between them. When she finally opened her wide, soft eyes she took her hand and placed it on his. This time Erik did not fear her touch. He started to say something but she cut him off.

"Now you can't speak," she said, "We're past words now." Without warning she removed her hand from his and reached out to touch the unmasked part of his face. When her fingers connected with his cold flesh he gasped. No one had ever touched him so intimately and lovingly. She ran a single finger up and down his cheek. His eyes closed, soaking in every moment.

Pitiful creature of darkness, what kind of life have you known?" she whispered to him, still continuing her sweet caress. Erik opened his eyes. He wanted to see her, take in all the beauty of this young woman.

"Why?" he asked, "After what I did to you?" This seemed a simple enough question to ask of her, but when her eyes began to fill with tears he feared he'd hurt her. He scolded himself for speaking out so boldly. But the smile that crossed her angelic face brought ease to his troubled mind.

"Because I," Claire started to say but Erik could not bear to hear it. Those were words that meant commitment and no one could commit to him. He placed a finger on her lips.

"Do not say it," he commanded, "If you say it I will never be able to see you again." The tears trickled from her eyes and one landed on his finger. He pulled it away.

"But if I don't say it I will burst," she cried, "I hardly know you and I'm feeling all these things I've never felt before." The honestly on her face amazed Erik and made him do something he thought he could never bring himself to do, he took her hand in his.

"You're but a child," he whispered, "These feelings; do you even know what they are?" In truth, he didn't even know what he was feeling.

"I feel for you what you feel for your music," Claire answered, the smile on her face reaching out to him, stroking his soul.

"And I feel, I feel so many things when I look at you," Erik responded, and Claire brought their entwined hands to her chest. He wished he had taken off his gloves; the warmth of her bosom would have warmed his cold skin.

"My heart is now bound to you," Claire spoke. Erik acted on what his heart was screaming and moved ever closer to her. Their bodies would have been pressed together if it weren't for their hands resting on Claire's chest.

"Ask it of me and I will give you the world," he whispered bringing his face closer to hers. His body was not his anymore, it was pure instinct. He'd read in books before that in order to kiss a woman you must show you are interested in doing so by leaning in. If the woman leaned in as well you knew she accepted your invitation. Her next words were more powerful then anything he'd ever read about intimate moments like this.

"But I don't want the world," she whispered sensually, "I want you." He placed his lips on hers. It was his first kiss, ever. He didn't even worry if he was doing it right or not, all he cared about was making it last as long as possible. He had become apart of her with that kiss. Their lips slowly parted. He didn't even know who broke it. All he knew was that he wanted more. He leaned in and kissed her again. The pressure of her lips was a comforting feeling and with each pass of his lips against her own he felt love.

Claire broke their union. She dropped his hands and took a step back. Her cheeks were a shade of pink and her hands fluttered by her sides.

"I must go; they'll wonder where I am," she said, "If you ask me I will come to you tonight." Erik felt his hear thump in his chest at her proposal.

"I will come to Sorelli's dressing room once again," he said and Claire smiled. Surprisingly, she came to him again and gave him a soft kiss. He took in her scent. She smelled of roses.

"Tonight we will be together," she said softly and Erik nodded. He decided it would be best to leave the moment at that and disappear from view. He quietly hid himself once again behind the statue, sure that she would not look there. He was right, and she moved towards the door. Erik still felt her, wanted her.

Then a thought crossed his mind, she had not seen what lay behind the mask. When she saw it…would she leave him forever?


	16. The Punjab Lasso

**This chapter was the first chapter written to music other then the Phantom of the Opera Soundtrack (Musical/Movie). The wonderful Les Miserable and Jekyll and Hyde inspired me! All credit goes to those two for this chapter, which I personally like for no good reason. **

The show was preformed with ease and grace. Sorelli, her leg in a brace, had glared at Claire during the entire performance from the left wing. Claire had ignored this and gave an eloquent performance. She was in a rush to return to the dressing room. Claire pushed through the crow, trying desperately not to fall and be trampled by feet. She was still dressed in her slave girl outfit and was chilled to the bone. The door to the dressing room was in sight when a man approached her. Beside him was Andre and Firmin. She stopped and smiled politely.

"Hello Monsieur Firmin, Monsieur Andre," she said. Andre smiled in return and responded,

"You were quite marvelous tonight. Oh, forgive me, where are my manners? Madame Lafayette this is the Vicomte Marc de Mandolin." The younger man took Claire's hand and lifted it to his lips.

"It's a pleasure to meet you," she said, unsure of this mans intentions.

"The pleasure will be entirely mine," he replied. Claire was offended by his obvious sexual innuendo. She was relieved when he released her hand.

"We shall leave you two to your business now," Firmin said and with that they left. Claire studied the man intently. Marc's brown hair was neatly pulled back into a ponytail, his face calm and serene.

"Shall I treat the lovely Miss Lafayette to dinner before bed?" he asked offering his arm. Claire knew what he wanted and she would not give it to him.

"I am sorry Monsieur but I am feeling quite ill," she lied. A look of anger crossed the man's face.

"I was promised you tonight and that is a promise I intend for you to keep!" He roughly grabbed her by the arm and began dragging her towards a dark area amidst the bustle of the cast and crew.

"Let me go!" Claire cried as he pushed her up against a wall. A hand covered her mouth, muffling her cries.

"You will find it better if you do not speak," Marc said kissing her neck and thrusting himself against her. Claire's eyes were wide with fright. She felt herself begin to cry, her tears running across his hand. She waited for him to take her completely and thought of what shame it would bring her.

That was when a shadow came up behind the Vicomte. Claire watched as a rope was thrown around his neck and pulled him backwards into the shadows across from the dark corner she was in. After a minute or so Erik emerged from the darkness, not Marc.

"Come with me," he whispered and took her by the hand. He led her through a hidden door and down towards his home.

"What did you do to him?" Claire said, demanding he tell her. Erik only held onto her more roughly and moved more quickly.

"Tell me what you did!" Claire yelled pulling against him. They stopped. It looked as if they were only a few levels below the Opera House for she could still hear the sounds of the people above. The tears still flowed from her eyes. She couldn't seem to stop them no matter how hard she tried. Erik turned to her, his eyes dark and dangerous.

"Do you really want to know what I did, what I did for you?" he bellowed. His words stung her. Without warning she felt herself shoved up against a wall for the second time that night. She sniffed back a sob but it spilled out anyway.

"Yes! I want to know!" she screamed. If the noise from above hadn't been so loud they surely would have been found out. Luck seemed to be on their side at the moment. He pressed his body against hers and brought his head against hers. They were inches from each other now.

"I killed him," he said. Claire bit her bottom lip.

"How?"

"The Punjab lasso." This meant nothing to Claire. To her it had looked like a regular rope being thrown around the man's neck. She should have been appalled by this act of evil but she was not. In response to his confession she brought her hand around to the back of his head and brought his lips to hers. His arms circled her tiny body and gave into the slow and tender kisses she offered. Two lost souls embracing in the darkness. Neither of them knew what they were doing or what was too come. Claire placed her hand gently on his mask.

Claire released him from her kiss and stared into his confused eyes.

"I thought you would leave," he declared, his voice filled with quiet awe. Claire shook her head and brought him to her again, their lips in an endless dance.

"I don't know what I feel," she mumbled between their kisses. Erik was quick to agree,

"Yes." He ended their kiss and took her by the hand, more gently this time.

"We must make haste my dear," he said, his voice returning to its normal uncaring demeanor. Claire was led through the dark of the underground but who would lead her through the darkness of her mind?


	17. Behind the Mask

**No new reviews, so discouraging. Oh well, I'm still going to write. It helps me wind down at the end of a long day. Cheers. **

They went down once more to his home. Claire had no clue why the murder of that man had brought no anger or fear. She wanted to feel those emotions but was unable to find them. When they reached the underground lake he hesitated. Claire was puzzled.

"I can not take you any further until you have seen my face." Claire had often wondered what lay behind his half a mask. She knew what she had to do. Though it pained her to see him so distraught at the mention of removing his disguise, she reached for it. Her face brushed the coldness of his disguise. Her other hand, which had been up until this point grasping his hand with a ferocity, let go. She wanted all of her attention on this life altering task. A look of fear crossed his face.

"Trust me," she whispered and found the crease that would show her the man behind the mask. She gently started the removal. The first thing that became clear to her was the left side of his nose. It was sunken in so badly it was hardly a nose at all. His eye, unlike the other, was slightly sunken into his head. His skin looked burned. Right below his hair line a jagged scar ran from ear to the top of his brow. It looked painful and permanent. Claire watched as he reached to the side of his head and removed part of his hair. A wig hid a mass of veins, clearly visible beneath the skin. Claire felt her heart go out to him. She did not recoil in fear.

Instead of saying anything she gently let the mask fall to the floor. Erik turned in his head in shame. Claire took his head and brought it back towards her. Her hand stroked his deformity, no disgust or pity in her touch. For the first time since she'd met this man he began to cry. They were silent tears that seemed happy and relieved. Claire felt her own tears but held them back. One of them had to be strong. She stopped stroking his face and came closer to him. Her body pressed against his. She wrapped her arms around his neck and he encircled her waist. He rested his head on her shoulder.

"You're beautiful," he whispered, "How can you stand to look at a beast like me?" Claire laughed weakly and ran a trembling hand through his hair.

"Because I treasure everything about you, even the imperfections inside and out," she reassured him. She felt him grip her tighter.

"How can someone so young understand so well?" he asked. Claire smiled and he lifted his head from her shoulder. They were now staring at each other, the first time without his mask. All she felt for this man was a deep understanding and love.

"Just like you, I also have my imperfections. More then anyone will ever know," she replied. He seemed satisfied with this answer. Yet, she still couldn't shake the feeling that he didn't trust her answers completely. Claire leaned in to kiss him but Erik turned his head slightly.

"You shouldn't have to kiss this," he said, his voice full of sorrow, "My own mother couldn't bring herself to kiss me." Claire took her hand and turned his head towards her.

"But I want to kiss you," she said and quickly captured his lips in hers. At first he was stubborn and wouldn't give in but little by little Erik became hers. They stood there in each others arms for only seconds, their lips locked together, but it felt like forever. The kiss ended and Claire gently placed a gentle kiss on the left side of his face. She then reached down and picked up his mask and handed it back to him. He took it, grateful to have the comforting material back on his face. He took her hand after putting the mask back on and led her towards the boat. He got in first and led her to the center where he gently helped her down. She looked up at him in that moment, the dead expression back on his face. He moved the boat towards his lair and an unknown fate which Claire couldn't even begin to imagine.


	18. Erik's Lullaby

**Emily, brush up on your knowledge of the man that is Erik, then review my story. Thanks for the reviews and tips everyone else. The song at the end is in fact a song with a melody. It is the prettiest song I have ever written. I want to share it with you and when I get a chance to record it (Most likely just my voice) I will share it with you. **

"What did you do with the body?" Claire asked. They were once again in his home beneath the Opera House. Erik was sitting rather moodily on his "throne." He'd hardly said two whole sentences to her since they'd arrived. She'd been left to her own devices. Claire tread carefully around his home, occasionally glancing over her shoulder to make sure he wasn't throwing her accusing glances. There wee not many rooms. There was a bedroom, a kitchen like area, and the open area that looked out onto the lake. If there were any other passages she could not find them.

She returned to him. He had not moved at all. Erik's eyes were stuck on one spot, far off. Claire kneeled before the chair.

"Erik?" she said, touching his arm gently. There was no response. Claire lowered her eyes to the ground. She did not know what to say or how to approach this situation. Only an hour ago they'd shared something special, now he was treating her like a stranger. She stood and crossed wearily to the room she had once been forced to sleep in, giving no other choice. She sunk down onto the bed of satin and curled up into a ball. She could think of nothing else to do. She was tired and needed rest. Closing her eyes she felt her body give into sleep.

How long she had been asleep was not known to her. She was awoken suddenly by a movement beside her. An arm draped across her still frame. She felt a body press up against her own.

"Hush," she heard Erik say, his other arm was positioned just so that he could stroke her gently. Claire gulped, not daring to move against him. The last time she'd been in bed with another man her clothes had been off and her legs in the air. No man had ever held her close like this in such a loving way.

"I want to say it," Claire gently said. She felt his breathing become more labored. He stopped his gentle stroking.

"I can't hear you say that," he retorted. Claire was in a huff. She sat up without warning, Erik's arm flying back towards him.

"How am I too be with you if I can not say what is in my heart?" Claire yelled, her face contorting in anger. Her eyes were wide with pleading and her teeth clenched together in a threatening manner. Erik's mask was not removed, Claire was furious.

"How dare you lay with me and not take off your mask! Do you think so little of me?" Erik did not look at her, he looked past her. Claire suddenly felt foolish for yelling at him. He had never been in this situation before. How was he to know what was right and what was wrong? She scolded herself and tried to catch Erik's eye.

"I'm sorry," he said quietly. Claire nodded and rested her head back down on a pillow. She was now facing Erik who was still fixated on some far off object.

"Look at me," she commanded. Erik slowly turned towards her. She was again pressed up against his body. Claire removed his mask with Claire, Erik's eyes closed the whole time during this process. She stroked the deformed side of his face and then kissed the brow of his sunken eye.

"I love you," Claire uttered suddenly. Erik's eyes snapped open but he did not move.

"Please don't hate me," Claire pleaded and placed a hand on his chest. She could feel his sculpted chest through the thin material of his white shirt.

"I could not," he answered, his voice so low she could barely hear him. Claire smiled. She had begun to cry again. Erik wiped the tears from her face.

"Don't cry, my love." Claire sniffed and rested her head on his chest. She listened to the steady beat of his heart. She ached to touch him in ways he'd never been touched before, know him in a way he'd never known. He would accept, no doubt of that, but Claire could not being herself to make love to this man out of lust, only love. Claire sighed into his warmth. His arm around her once more, she had never felt more comfortable in her life.

"I love you Claire." Her ears pricked up at these words and she lifted her eyes to meet his.

"Thank you," she whispered and brought her lips to his. The kiss was long and ended to soon. He kissed her neck, and moved his way up to her jaw. His hands had started to work at her blouse. Claire knew this could not continue yet her hands were all over his body. She was melting underneath his touch once more.

"No," she said and stopped him. His eyes filled with confusion. She shook her head.

"Not tonight," she said quietly and let the passion ebb. Erik seemed disappointed but did not protest. He went back to running his fingers through her long mane.

"Sing to me Erik," Claire asked, closing her eyes. Warm in his embrace he began to sing to her in a soft but sensual voice.

_The night beckons,  
__The sea is calm.  
__The clouds roll back,  
__The tide goes out.  
__The light is gone,  
__The earth is still.  
__Your eyes will close,  
__But dreams begin._

_Sleep my love,  
__Do not fear,  
__For in the morning,  
__I'll be here.  
__Save your tears,  
__Do not weep,  
__All through the nighttime,  
__I'll be here. _

_The dark will hide,  
__Moon shines bright.  
__In my embrace,  
__You'll find my heart.  
__Closer you come,  
__Feel my pulse.  
__You hear my voice,  
__Now take my hand._

_Sleep my love,  
__Do not fear,  
__For in the morning,  
__I'll be here.  
__Save your tears,  
__Do not weep,  
__All through the nighttime,  
__I'll be here. _

_The silence is unbearable,  
__But with you it's unreal.  
__The loneliness I felt,  
__Is it finally a thing of memories?  
_

_Sleep my love,  
__Do not fear,  
__For in the morning,  
__I'll be here.  
__Save your tears,  
__Do not weep,  
__All through the nighttime,  
__I'll be here. _


	19. Music of the Night

**Yay! I've just realized my character never wonders where the bathroom is…ha! But since this is fairytale like I will avoid that question. Did Snow White ever ask the dwarves where the can was? I don't think so! Anyway, there's kind of a sex scene, just warning you. Don't like writing full ones so most of it is up to you to imagine. **

Claire awoke sometime during the night, Erik's voice still fresh in her mind.

_Sleep my love,  
Do not fear,  
For in the morning,  
I'll be here._

He still slept beside her. Claire smiled and moved about until she found a comfortable place. His arm still protectively held her close to him. She still had not asked him many questions that had been on her mind. Now that she thought of them she was wide awake.

"Erik?" she said softly and he stirred beside her. Shifting against her, Claire felt a rush of pleasure course through her.

"Mmm?" she heard him reply. He must have been half asleep, exhausted from the day. Claire didn't even know how much he actually slept.

"Sorry for waking you," she said and he groaned softly.

"Do not worry, my love," he replied and kissed the back of her head. Erik pulled her closer to him, the hardness of his pants pressing against her. Claire would be driven mad with passion soon if something did not happen.

"Where did you come from?" she asked suddenly, forgetting to initiate conversation before delving into those topics. He did not say anything for several moments. Claire was sure he'd leave her.

"I've lived many places, seen many things, finally coming here to Paris. I helped build this Opera House and haven't left since." Claire bit her bottom lip and sighed.

"Thank you." Claire turned over so she could see his face. His hair was all tousled about from sleep which made him appear years younger. She pressed her body up against his and placed a caring hand on the right side of his face.

"Please don't," Erik said, kissing the hand that rested on his face. Claire removed her hand and began to unbutton her blouse. Erik turned his head away.

"I can not do this," he snapped. She stopped undressing.

"You can," Claire said gently and brought her lips to his and won him over. He was hers and she was his from that moment. No two souls had ever before fit so perfectly together. Claire moved to unbutton the rest of her blouse but Erik's touch stopped her.

"Allow me," he said and began to remove her shirt. Underneath was a worn and improperly latched corset. Erik smiled at this and pushed her back onto the bed. He did this properly, placing her amongst the covers, her ashen hair spread out every which way over the many pillows. He kissed the top of her breasts with the hesitation of a child. Claire knew he had never done this before so she would help make it the best she possibly could. He kissed the exposed skin passionately. Claire kissed the top of his head and breathlessly said,

"I think this is the part where you free me from this uncomfortable corset." Erik blushed. Claire could see his hands were trembling. He slowly undid the clasps, exposing her chest and stomach. She suddenly felt more naked then she had ever felt before. She must have looked unsure. Erik had stopped.

"Should I stop?" he asked, his eyes filled with curious confusion. Claire shook her head and lifted herself up to kiss him. As her brain became more and more fogged with lust she removed his shirt, his impeccable abs revealed. She brought him down with her, her tiny breasts pressed against his chest. Both of their breathing was heavy, their eyes locked. The music of the night had begun.


	20. The Promise of Return

**Sorry for the delay my lovelies. You're all so very sexy and kind. I will write a longer chapter to appease my audience. THE HEAT IS ON IN SAIGON…..not in my story. Cheers!**

Erik awoke as he normally would, rubbing the sleep from his eyes and recalling what he had done before he went to bed. His mind was on its usual one track path, no thought of others, only himself. That was when his eyes adjusted to the dark and the shape of his beloved Claire formed before his eyes. She shifted silently in her sleep, the candles casting a harsh light over her body. It was the first time he had ever opened his eyes to find a woman next to him. He reached out a shaky hand and gently placed it on her thigh. It warmed his hand considerably and he drew it away. She sighed contentedly in her sleep and curled up into a tiny ball. The covers had fallen off her during the night. Erik gently placed them back over her body and sat up. He reached over and grabbed his mask from where it had been so hurriedly tossed aside. He pulled his undergarments and pants on.

Walking over to his throne, he once again took his watchful perch. Just as before, he was deep in thought. Not even Claire could have awoken him from that stupor he had fallen into before. One part of him had wanted to talk to her, break the silence, but the other parts forbid him too. He needed some time to himself. It was odd being in these sort of social situations after so long a solitude. Now, as Claire slept, he could have an un-worried time to be lost in his own thoughts.

Why had this woman chosen to love him so completely, give herself to him without a second thought? She was like an angel in hell, small and fragile, capable of flying away and leaving him at any time. He trusted her though. In that moment when they had become one he officially gave into trusting her. She trusted him so how could he not trust her?

How long he sat there lost in his own thoughts was a mystery to him, but a gentle hand on his arm brought him back to reality.

"Erik," he heard her say. His eyes turned to her kneeling form. She had draped a silken cover over her body, concealing her naked form from him. He knew it was un-lady like to walk around in the buff. He motioned for her to come closer and she did without hesitation. She took it a step further and sat on his lap. She wrapped her arms around his neck and buried her head in his chest.

"I must leave you soon," she said softly, playing with his hair, "I have a performance tonight." Erik nodded and took in her scent, that heavenly aroma of vanilla. He rested his head on hers and reached beneath the cover she wore. He placed his hand on the inside of her thigh and felt her stir against his touch.

"But I can come back after tomorrow night and stay for awhile. The show is taking a small hiatus, a week or so. I can say I'm visiting my parents, no one will be the wiser."

"I would love that." He could not see her face but he could feel her smile, brilliant and wide. She lifted her head from his chest causing his to jump slightly. He had not expected her to do this and his own head was knocked off hers.

"Sorry love," she said apologetically, "But I feared I'd fall asleep." Erik grinned and kissed her forehead lightly. He removed his hand from the inside of her thigh and took her hand.

"The night is ending, the morning beckons Claire. You must return to your family above." Claire nodded and squeezed his hand. Erik was falling even more madly in love with this precious treasure. He felt her slide from his lap and watched her retreating form. Then he heard her begin to cough violently. She stopped walking and attempted to cover her mouth. Something was wrong.

He rushed to her side and wrapped a protective arm around her waist, supporting her weight and guiding her back to the bed. The coughing had not stopped even when they reached the chambers. Her body fell heavily, even though he guided her body downwards. She seemed to be giving into the violent spurts of hacking and gagging and losing consciousness.

"Claire!" Erik cried and gathered her in his arms. Holding her tightly he felt her body shake with the force of each cough and gasp for breath. She had been fine only a moment ago. Her body was covered in sweat which dampened his bare chest. The cover had fallen off her body when he had laid her down, her skin was once again pressed against his bare flesh but not in a way he wanted.

"Please stop," he pleaded, clutching her all the more tightly, "I don't know what to do." Almost as if answering him, her breathing began to slow and the hacking subsided into silent tears. If it had been possible to hold her any closer then she already was, Erik would have done it. He felt the tears stain his face as well.

"Oh Claire," he sobbed. Claire, who had up until now been no responsive to his embrace, took him fiercely in her arms as well.

"I'm so sorry," she said, sniffling. Erik rubbed his shadowed cheek against the side of her head, attempting to quite her suffering.

"It's alright," he reassured, "It was not your fault." This seemed to calm her down quite a bit.

"I think it's time for me to return," she said breaking the embrace. Erik did not question this and helped her into her clothes. He offered her some food but she turned her head at the invitation. Erik constantly gave her looks of concern but she seemed to shrug them off. As they crossed the underground lake he guided the boat with an unsteady hand. His mind was not on this, he didn't want to go another day and a half without knowing what had suddenly come between them. He stopped the boat.

"Erik," Claire cried distraught, "What are you doing?" Erik sat down across from her and looked her straight in the eyes.

"You seemed near death back there, I'm worried. Now you're treating me like I don't exist. What happened?" Claire didn't look away but she seemed distant.

"I don't know," she whispered. Erik brought himself closer to her. He could feel the barrier she was putting up. She did know what had happened back there.

"If you really love me you'll tell me," he cried and grabbed one of her hands, "If my love means anything to you!" She did not respond to his touch and continued to stare through him.

"I can't," she gasped, "I don't know, I don't know." Erik knew his eyes were pleading but he did not care. He had never known such emotions as the ones he was feeling now. Was he afraid of loosing her?

"You truly do not know?" he asked. For the first time since the incident she looked at him fully.

"I do not know," she truthfully said. She squeezed his hand and leaned forward to kiss him. He accepted this kiss and swam in its warmth. When they parted he got to his feet and began to maneuver the boat towards the shore. He would miss her, even if it was only for a short time.

The time they spent in the many corridors and passing through the many hidden doors was spent in silence. He led her by the hand, of course, his grip on her strong. He wanted to be able to touch her in any way possible, just to know that she was his and still there. When they reached the mirror he brought her to him fiercely. She wrapped her arms around his chest and he enveloped her in his. They stood there for a few minutes, Erik longing to hold onto her for just one more moment. When he let go he kissed her passionately and pulled the lever that would release her from him.

"I will return," she promised and disappeared through the mirror. Erik watched her cross over to the door and pause. She turned back and mouthed the words,

"I love you."


	21. You Can Not See Him

**I've decided since I'm probably not going to be able to update (Probably, I don't know for a fact) until Monday, I'm giving you two chapters tonight. I'm getting to the main point of the story now; if anyone has noticed, and I'm contemplating how long to keep this going. I might make my limit thirty chapters but we shall see. It all depends on what's going on in my life. Cheers! **

Claire returned to the surface a new woman. She had made love without regret for the first time in her life and found comfort in a man's arms. She could not believe her luck. Up until the horrible coughing fit she had been content and happy. Her body still ached from the episode she had. She didn't quite remember the whole thing. For awhile her body gave into the pain and breathless hacking, but feeling Erik's arms around her brought her back to reality. Claire had not lied when she told Erik she was clueless to what had ailed her, she did not know. All she knew is that it was the most excruciating thing she had ever felt.

Upon exiting the dressing room, her eyes were assaulted with the sight of a large crowd of people gathering around a specific area. Claire felt her head become light. She knew what they all looked at. She thought about turning back and running to Erik when Andre and Firmin came barreling out from the mass and began barraging her with questions.

"What did you do with the Vicomte last night? Did you go anywhere with him? Was he pleased? Did you see him leave? Did you kill him?" The last question seemed to slip out of Andre's mouth unintentionally. Claire was offended.

"How dare you accuse me of murdering this man?" She cried and pushed passed them. She did not care if they owned the Opera House, she was in a tiff.

"Madame," Firmin said as he blocked her path, "My friend did not know what he was saying. We do not think you killed the Vicomte. You were just the last person seen with him."

"I did not attend dinner with the Vicomte gentleman. I felt ill and excused myself to go lie down. I've been fast asleep in this dressing room all night, the door locked. I did not and could not have touched the Vicomte." Andre and Firmin nodded and dismissed her. She hurried past them and bumped straight into Meg.

"Isn't it horrid Claire?" she exclaimed, "They say someone killed him from behind!" Claire nodded and tired to ignore Meg but she went on,

"I never liked him! He was always sleeping with the all the dancers but not me!" Claire stopped and turned to Meg.

"I'd love to talk but I can't right now." Meg looked hurt but Claire pushed this thought aside and hurried towards the dormitories. She wanted to lie in her bed and push the world away from her and think of only lying in Erik's arms. She was almost there when Madame Giry appeared suddenly in front of her. Without saying a word she grabbed the young dancer by the arm and dragged her towards a remote area where no one was.

"What are you doing?" she demanded. Claire looked confused.

"Going to rest?" Madame Giry's face became masked with annoyance and she lifted her hand and slapped Claire. She did not believe what had just happened.

"You are not to see Erik anymore!" the dance instructor nearly screamed. Claire's eyes went wide with wonderment and shock.

"I do not understand," she said breathlessly, "What has changed?" Madame Giry seemed to roll her eyes in an almost childish way.

"He had murdered and yet you lay in bed with him!" Claire did not know what to say. Of course Madame was only assuming she had slept with the Opera Ghost but in this case she was right.

"I can do what I want," Claire snapped and another slap landed on her reddened cheek.

"I know more about him then you ever will! He is a dangerous man and you are getting caught up in something much bigger then you could ever hope to imagine!" Madame Giry said her voice cold and full of emotion. Claire felt the tears in her eyes.

"I love him." Madame Giry sighed and the anger slightly lifted from her face.

"I know," she said softly, "That is why you must end it." Claire could not control the tears. How could she end it?

"I can't."

"You will." Claire felt powerless at this gentle but loving command. Madame Giry was like her mother, how could she disobey her? The instructor lifted a caring hand and caressed the red mark she'd left.

"After the performance tomorrow night you will end it or I will give up his location to the authorities," she finalized and left Claire. Claire collapsed onto the ground and sobbed loudly. She did not have a choice. Erik's freedom was in jeopardy and relinquishing her love was the only way to save him from humanity.

"Please forgive me Erik," she whispered into the dark silence of the Opera House, "Please forgive me." There was no answer. Had she expected one she would have never said those words. Erik was down below, no doubt, working on a new piece of music he hoped to play for her. This brought even more tears to her eyes. The thought of hurting him was killing her. He had finally learned to love her and now she was going to take that away from him with a few simple words. How could she say she didn't love him?

Meg found her on the floor, crying. She led Claire slowly to her room and helped her into bed. She drew the covers up to Claire's chin and pushed a strand of hair out of her eyes.

"What's wrong?" Meg asked. Claire didn't respond and turned away from Meg. She heard Meg sigh and leave her side. She loved Meg but could not bear to be near another human being right now.

"Erik," she whispered, "Erik, Erik, Erik." Meg, who stood in the doorway, heard her speak the name Erik and she grew puzzled. Who was Erik? She walked back over towards Claire.

"Who's Erik Claire?"

"No one…anymore." This answer puzzled Meg.

"Claire, who is Erik?" Claire turned over and looked at her friend.

"A man I love very much and can not be with anymore because of circumstances." These words echoed in her head, she could not believe she was hearing herself say this.

"Oh, I am sorry!" Meg cried and gave her friend a sympathetic glance, "I understand you not wanting to talk about it. I will leave now." Claire watched as Meg left and was glad. She did not need the attention; she did not want the attention. She wanted the Phantom of the Opera.


	22. The Dress

**Ah! Emily! The music for the song is being written by my dear friend Aylah. If there's a way to get it on the internet then it will be available to download in time. And I like the theory! I was thinking of something like that last night but then felt foolish because the book doesn't really paint Madame Giry as having much of a relationship with Erik other then giving him his money and making sure his box was empty. Hell, she wasn't even the dance instructor in the book. So maybe I will use that as a back story but we shall see! And as for T.B, that is pretty self explanatory as it did kill many people back in the day. Erik's not dumb, he'll figure it out. Cheers! **

Claire awoke from her light slumber to the sounds of the other ballet dancers coming into the room from rehearsal. She sat up quickly, her eyes wide. Had she missed rehearsal?

"What time is it?" she heard herself say. One of the dancers gave her a sharp and disapproving glance.

"You missed rehearsal," she snapped, "Madame Giry is putting Meg on in the lead tonight. She said to let you sleep since you weren't feeling well." Claire felt her blood boil.

"Thank you," she said and got out of bed. Everyone gave her puzzled looks. She realized she was still in her costume from the night before. She blushed and went to change into a less flashy ensemble. She knew what Madame Giry was up to and she did not like it. Instead of giving her until tomorrow night to break things off with Erik she was pushing for tonight.

"Why does she want it to end so badly?" Claire asked herself as she exited the room, her costume hung over her arm. She raced down to the costume room first and dropped off the outfit with the hired help there. They were puzzled as to why she held onto it so long but did not question her. She then raced off in another direction, desperately searching for Madame Giry.

Having no luck locating the ballet instructor she began to ask around. No one had seen her since rehearsals ended. This unnerved Claire greatly and made her mind race. Where could she be? Then it dawned on her. She ran back the direction she had come until she was at the doors leading into Sorelli's dressing room. Reaching for the door knob seemed to take forever. As she opened the door she heard Meg Giry's high pitched giggle.

"This is simply splendid!" Claire heard her cry. She stepped into the room. Meg's eyes lit up at the sight of her friend.

"I'm so sorry you're feeling ill!" Meg cried and hugged Claire tightly. Claire returned the hug. Her mother might have been tearing her apart but the young Giry was not. Meg smiled brightly as she rushed over to the vanity table and lifted a parcel from its surface. It was a beautiful gown, embroidered with many jewels. How Giry had paid for this was a mystery to Claire but she did not care.

"It's beautiful," Claire said, "You'll look lovely in it." Meg shook her head and held the dress out to her.

"My mother got it for you," Meg corrected. Claire looked to Madame Giry who was looking up at her from her seat.

"Why?" she asked. Giry smiled.

"You're like a daughter to me." Claire knew there was something more to this gift.

"Would you please excuse us Meg?" Madame Giry asked. Her daughter nodded and bounded out of the room. There was now silence. Claire looked to the mirror and noticed it was covered with a black sheet.

"He can still hear us," Claire said coldly. Madame Giry shook her head.

"He is not there." Claire glared at the dance instructor and then took a seat at the vanity table.

"Why did you really buy me this dress?" she asked. Giry looked at the dress which now lay in front of Claire.

"I wanted you to look nice tonight," she answered, "Erik should have a lady break up with him, not a common ballet brat." Claire felt these words dig into her and twist her insides around. She could not comprehend why Giry was being so cruel to her about this.

"Stop, I will not do this."

"You are young and foolish. This is nothing more then a childish crush. Do you even know how old the man you lay with is? How could he relate to a silly child?" Claire felt her throat begin to close up and she coughed violently. She put her hand up to her mouth to catch this sudden outburst. She removed her hand from her mouth and noticed red splotches. Her body became cold, she knew what ailed her.

She hated crying. She cried all the time. Maybe she was too much of a child to be with Erik. The tears were collecting in her eyes, threatening to spill out at a moments notice.

"Do not cry child," Madame Giry hushed, "Come, let us get you into this dress. You of course know you are not dancing tonight." Claire nodded and stood. Her sudden realization of what was wrong with her coupled with the guilt of what she was about to do made her lower her guard.

Madame Giry had also purchased a rather expensive corset, one that laced up the back. Claire sucked in her stomach and held her breath as Giry helped her lace it up. She braced herself against the wall as each lace was threaded through. She felt trapped. Next the dress came. It was not a billowy dress but more of a curve hugging one. It was a deep green which made Claire look more beautiful then she had ever been before.

"You will not need makeup," Madame Giry said smiling at her work, "You are an angel." Claire held back her tears.

"I have sent him a note," the instructor said, "He should be up soon." With that she left. Claire sat down in the chair that faced the mirror and waited. She heard the familiar click of the latch being lifted and the mirror opened. Erik seemed slightly put off by the black cover that hid the room from him but this must have left his mind the moment he saw Claire. She stood, allowing him to see her in all of her simple elegance. Without saying a word he came and collected her in his arms and kissed her fiercely on the lips. Claire felt her heart break. She was sure he could hear it as well. But, to her astonishment he simply broke their kiss and continued to hold her in his arms.

"You are so beautiful," he whispered into her ear, "What's the occasion?" Claire could not bear to lead him on like this. She pulled away from him. The look of confusion that crossed his face in that moment made her resolve falter.

"I love you Claire," Erik said, reaching out for her. She took a step back.

"It's over Erik."


	23. The Pain of Love

**I admit I'm making the story a tiny bit sad…this chapter made me cry while writing it. I feel for Erik and Claire. Truth be told, I don't even know where this story is going. So this is like an emotional rollercoaster for all of us! Cheers! **

Erik felt his world begin to collapse.

"It's over Erik." He did not believe for once second his beloved Claire had said such brutal and unfeeling words. His advance and her slow retreat made him loose his grip.

"You do not mean that." He believed this to be a horrible mistake, even a cruel joke. Erik was dumfounded by the sudden turn of events. He'd come up from his home exactly as the note had said. It had been straight forward and bland but Erik had naturally assumed Claire was in a rush. The letter read,

_Meet me tonight in the Dressing Room. I will wait for you. –Claire_

Just imagine the thrill Erik had at reading that he was to be reunited with his love earlier then he'd expected! Confusion had overtaken him as he had approached the mirror seeing only black. Assuming this was some error he opened the mirror and found that it was only a blanket. Any questions he might have had about that had been pushed from his mind the moment he saw Claire. She was the picture of beauty, dressed in an elegant dress. The tops of her breasts exposed, the flesh of her arms showing. He had rushed towards her without saying anything and kissed her passionately. He should have known something was wrong at the moment she pulled away from him. Then she had said those words.

"I do mean it Erik," she answered, interrupting his reminiscing, "We can't continue this farce."

"Farce?" he questioned, "How is this a farce!" His voice became shrill and angry near the end. Claire's face was suddenly filled with pain. She was not crying but he could tell she was holding it back.

"I'm too young. I have been foolish in thinking I knew what love was," she said. Erik could not believe what he was hearing. This precious creature he'd held in his arms just the night before, the one who had defied him and proclaimed her love, the girl who understood him was now tossing him aside.

"That is a lie!" he roared and rushed forwards. He grabbed her by the arms and gripped tightly. He wanted to shake her until she took it all back. He could not. He simply stood rigid, holding onto her. Claire had turned her head. Erik wanted to look her in the eyes.

"Look me in the eyes and tell me you don't love me," he said. He felt Claire's body become as stiff as his. She still did not meet his eyes.

"Look at me!" He screamed. She slowly met his eyes. Erik could see she was in agony and longed to hold her close and mend the hurt.

"I don't love you," she whispered quickly.

"This hurts you…why?"

"Erik! Let me go!" Erik released her and she took another step back away from him. She was nearing the door. He could feel the tears as they cascaded down his face.

"Please," Erik pleaded, "Please don't leave me." Claire's face was a mask of anguish. He could see this was tearing her apart as it was him. Claire shook her head.

"No," she cried, "I have too. This is for our own good Erik." He balled his hands up into fists. He could not accept this.

"Look at me Claire. Tell me what you see!" With that he ripped his mask off and threw it at her feet. She looked down at it stupefied and then looked back to Erik. He was baring his soul to her. She had seen him without his mask on, he knew this, but never when he was completely and utterly beside himself with grief. He had looked at himself in the mirror on nights he wept, the image of such a tortured man made his cry out in rage and sorrow. All he saw on Claire's face was sorrow.

"How can you do this to me?" he asked, his voice cracking. Claire turned away from him. Erik fell to the floor banging his knees. The pain was intense but he did not mind it. For a moment it distracted him from the pain in his heart. He buried his head in his hands and sobbed loudly. He could not control himself.

"Do not hate me," he heard Claire said, "This is what I must do." The door opened and then closed. Erik did not want to look up. He knew if he did she would not be there. As long as he did not look he would be able to imagine her still there. His sobbing was not quieted. He did not want anyone to come in and see him like this.

"Sleep my love…do not fear," Erik sang softly, "For in the morning I'll be here." This sudden memory of singing Claire to sleep sent him into another fit of angry and remorseful tears.

"Why," he sobbed, "Why?" He had experienced love for the first time in his life and she ripped it away from him. He lifted his weary head and spotted his mask lying on the floor. It was a mere few feet but to him it seemed like miles. He crawled towards it. When finally picking it up he did not place it on his face right away and instead stood. He approached the mirror and gazed at his reflection. What he saw was a broken beast.

"I was foolish to think someone could ever love this," he spat at his reflection. Anger grew in his heart. The tears subsided but the feeling of complete rage had begun to take hold. He let out an inhuman cry and plunged down into the dark depths. He moved with lighting speed back down to his home. He did not even tread with care on the levels where humans dwelled. He needed to be away from the surface and return to his prison. Upon reaching the lakes edge he resembled a mad man. He was clutching his mask so hard it had begun to cut into his hand, blood dripped onto the stone ground. Erik had never felt so many things at once before. He let the bloodied mask fall. It fell with such a forth it broke into two halves when it struck the ground. The inhuman cry was once again emitted. Erik titled his head towards the cavernous ceiling and screamed,

"Claire!"


	24. He Will Die

**Tuberculosis is the illness Claire has. OK? So, anyway, thanks for the reviews. They mean a lot to me. Alright, on with the story! Cheers! **

The days faded into weeks and the weeks into months. Claire had never been more alone. She had resumed her role as the lead for the final nights of Hannibal and then relinquished the position back to Sorelli. Claire was happy for this. She needed to be out of the limelight. As the endless days dragged on, Claire found her body had begun to grow weaker. She still danced but always collapsed after a rehearsal. This frightened her. She had not coughed up anymore blood since the night in the dressing room but she was certain it would happen again in time.

Every night she would lie awake crying for hours. She hoped that Erik would come to her during those darkest moments but he never did. She was drowning in an eternal guilt. Seeing Madame Giry everyday did not help her situation. She avoided her when she could but at rehearsals she had no choice but to stare at the woman who tore the man she loved away from her. Madame Giry would occasionally send triumphant gazes her way but that was all. They did not communicate much. Meg had also become distant. Maybe it was something her mother had said to her or maybe it was the way Claire had been acting. All in all, Claire had never felt more alone.

The Ball Masque was upon them before Claire knew it. The old year had ended and the new had begun. Maybe this would be her chance to release her mind from the stress that had been clouding it for months. Only the prestigious and elite had an invite to this event. Claire was a first timer, personally receiving her invitation from Monsieur Andre. Her short stint as lead dancer had won her accolades amongst many of the people who had attended the shows she had performed in. Claire could see that Sorelli, also invited, was sore at having to share the spotlight. She pushed all the negativity from her mind and half heartedly picked her outfit out. She knew what she was going to wear.

* * *

The evening before the Ball Masque Claire visited a past haunt, the Chapel. She had avoided it ever since breaking off things with Erik. Now she returned to the place where she had first been in his presence knowingly. Nothing had changed. It was picturesque as it usually was; a quiet and serene calm in the air. Claire smiled and sat upon the ground in front of a row of lit candles. The flames seemed to quiver. Claire stared at the dancing shadows on the wall behind the candles.

"You hide behind a mask of fear…I wonder why I'm still here," she sang softly. This was not a song she had heard before; it had just come to her. She continued to hum the tune softly to herself. She did not want to distract any unwanted attention.

"Oh Erik," she whispered, "Are you even there?" The only answer she received was the silent flickering of the candles.

The night was upon them and the whole Opera House was a bustle of activity. Claire and Meg were silently dressing. They had hardly spoken two words to each other since they'd begun preparation for the night that lay ahead of them.

"Meg?" Claire began. Meg looked up from the makeup she had been hurriedly applying to her face.

"Yes?"

"Did your mother tell you anything about me?" Meg turned a deep red and began to nervously play with her hair.

"Of course not!"

"Oh." Claire knew she was lying but did not pursue further questioning. The dress Claire had chosen was the one Madame Giry had given her to break up with Erik in. She did not have a mask. This troubled her but she pushed that thought aside. She secretly hoped someone would be looking for her during this masked event and if she wore one how would he know it was her? Instead, she was heavily applying makeup to mask the dark rings underneath her eyes. She had barely slept the last few months. Meg helped her pull her hair back into an elegant bun. Claire thought it looked horrible, Meg loved it. After adorning themselves with some jewelry they made their way towards the grand ballroom where the main festivities would be taken place. Meg and Claire were both without men on their arms.

Claire had never seen anything like what awaited her upon entering the grand ballroom. Masks were everywhere, all sorts of shapes and colors. The outfits the people wore were equally as outrageous. Claire loved it. She mingled with some people who approached her. They talked for awhile and then a young gentleman offered her his arm.

"Would the beautiful young lady like to dance?" he asked. Claire, thinking of Erik, almost declined. Then, thinking of how things had ended, she decided to accept. The man seemed delighted and whisked her off onto the dance floor. He, like the others, had a mask which he lowered while dancing. He was a handsome man who looked barely twenty. She smiled at him as they moved about the dance floor. After a few minutes of dancing Claire began to feel light headed.

"Excuse me sir," she said, "I need to go…" She released herself from him arms and stumbled towards a corridor where few people were. The world had begun to spin. She felt her knees give out from underneath her. She feared collapsing in front of all these people, but that did not happen. Steady arms caught her and led her towards the corridor she'd been heading too.

"Sit," the voice ordered and she collapsed upon the ground. The world continued to spin for a moment more and then she began to regain clarity to her vision. In front of her was a man, a mask covering most of his face.

"Thank you," she thanked and attempted to stand. The man helped her to her feet. He smiled and offered her his arm. He did not utter a word. Claire turned her head and studied this man. He was familiar and yet…not.

"Alright," she agreed and let him lead her back out onto the dance floor, "But please be careful." The man nodded and they began to dance. Claire felt safe with his man and let him lead her.

"Who is the man behind the mask?" she asked him. He shook his head and continued to lead her in dance. It was almost like making love to him. Suddenly Claire felt guilt overwhelm her. How could she do this to Erik?

"I can't," she pleaded, "I have to go." She separated from him and returned to the corridor she had just been in. Her body was flushed and she felt like a common whore. The man followed. She turned from him. She felt his hand on her shoulder.

"Please do not touch me," she snapped. She felt the hand quickly recoil as if it had been burned.

"Claire." At the sound of the pained voice she turned. She knew who the man was now.

"Erik." He nodded and looked away, ashamed. Claire bit her bottom lip and thought back to Madame Giry's threat. But how would Madame Giry know that Erik was the man behind this mask? With this thought Claire threw herself upon Erik and hugged him tightly. She felt him melt into her sudden embrace.

"It's been far too long," Erik sobbed, "Being apart from you is a fate worse then death." Claire nodded.

"I couldn't see you, I can't," she said, "You have to understand. Your very life is in danger." Erik seemed shocked.

"My life?" he uttered. Claire nodded.

"Madame Giry," she began, "She told me she would tell the authorities if I did not break things off with you!" Erik groaned and brought Claire to his lips. She had wanted this for so long. The moment their lips met she felt herself loose all her inhibitions. She was with her love. Their kiss did not break even as people moved by, commenting on how that sort of display of affection was reserved for the bedroom. Erik's hands were massaging Claire as their kiss deepened. Claire once again found her hands resting place in his hair. Breathless, Erik broke the kiss and stared deep into Claire's eyes.

"I can't continue to live like this."

"I know." Their lips met quickly and then pulled apart.

"Be with me forever," Erik said, "We can leave the Opera House." Claire's forehead crinkled.

"Leave?"

"Yes, leave the Opera House," he reiterated, "I know with this face I can't give you the perfect life but I can at least give you something other then this." Claire frowned.

"But where will we go?"

"I don't care my love, wherever you want to go! As long as you're with me I will be happy." Claire's frown turned into a grin.

"Oh," she cried and kissed Erik again, "When shall we do this?" Erik closed his eyes; he seemed to be deep in thought.

"After the opening night of Ill Muto," he answered, "Then I will give you a home, make you my bride." Claire felt her pulse begin to race. She could not believe what he was proposing to do.

"But you built this Opera House," she began but he stopped her by placing a finger to her lips.

"I built myself a prison," he corrected, "That's what this is to me." Claire nodded and brought Erik towards her.

"Until then," she whispered.

"Until then," he responded. A kiss to the forehead concluded their meeting. He was gone. Claire felt her heart grow heavy with happiness. She was to be his bride. This thought made her smile even wider. Claire moved back out into the grand ballroom where the masque raged on. She glanced up towards the top of the staircase. Madame Giry's cold eyes locked on her own. The world seemed to stop as Madame Giry mouthed the words,

"He will die."


	25. Happy Birthday

**Sorry for my little break. I was unable to write anything. It was a lack of computer. But now I am back and ready to entertain with another chapter! There's only going to be a few more… I'm not all that happy about ending it but I can't drag it on forever. **

The week before the opening of Ill Muto, Claire spent her eighteenth birthday alone on the roof. No one had cared nor remembered the occasion. This thought saddened her but she didn't let it dampen her spirit. Claire sighed and walked to the edge of the roof and peered over the edge. How easy it would be to let herself fall vicariously from the side. She smiled at this thought. Spreading her arms, she imagined plunging off the roof onto the citizens below.

"Oh but it is only a dream!" she cried loudly, "Why am I such a fool? Any sane person would have known better!" She felt arms encircle her waist as she said this. Soft lips pressed against the side of her face.

"But my dear, you are quite sane," he whispered into the softness of cheek. Claire's eyes were closed tightly, her breathing heavy and erratic. This dialogue was familiar, as if from a distant dream. Claire tried to turn to him, into the warmth of his loving arms, but he stopped her.

"Don't turn around just yet," he commanded. Claire gasped as his hand ran across her crotch and down the inside of her leg.

"Why?" she moaned. His touch was almost too much to bear.

"Because if you see me my dear Claire, you will see me for whom I really am."

"And would I see a beast and not a man?" she asked and with great reluctance turned to face him. His hand slowly slipping from her sacred spot. She was once again face to face with her masked admirer.

"I love you Erik," she said as she removed his mask, "I really do." She gently pressed her lips against the deformed side of his face.

"And I love you as well," he replied, "Happy Birthday my dear." Claire's eyes went wide.

"How did you know?" At her innocent question he laughed.

"You were singing happy birthday to yourself earlier," he declared. Claire grinned and kissed him hard on the lips. He returned the kiss with intensity. This kiss brought Madame Giry's warning to her mind. She broke apart from him.

"Erik," she muttered, "I must tell you something." Erik nodded and kissed her forehead.

"Tell me anything."

"Madame Giry knew we were together. She said she'd kill you." Erik's face grew grave. He looked like death had just slapped him in the face.

"Why does she do this too us?" he cried and pulled apart from Claire. He angrily bashed his fists against one of the stone gargoyles.

"I think you know Erik." Erik stopped his ranting and looked at Claire. His eyes were filled with guilt. He sat down on ground wearily and ran a hand through his hair. Claire wanted to go to him but decided against it.

"How should I know?" Erik yelled, "Antoinette is insane!" Claire did not believe what she was hearing. Without even realizing it Erik had just confirmed her knew of why Giry was so upset over this.

"Tell me Erik." Erik sighed and reluctantly stated,

"She's a mad woman. Ever since she found out about my existence she has used me. Those twenty thousand francs a month do not all go to me. She keeps most and I get the bare minimum. Those demands I make are not mine, they are hers! She threatens to reveal my hidden lair if I do not write her the notes. She is mad that you are taking me away, her puppet!" Claire fell to her knees. This news was a heavy weight on her conscious. Claire felt Erik's arm around her and she leaned into him.

"Then it is over isn't it?" she sobbed into his dress coat, "She has won!" Erik ran a soothing hand through her hair.

"It is not over for you," he comforted, "I want you to go home Claire." Claire looked up at Erik, confusion masking her face.

"Go home? We're supposed to," she began but Erik cut her off.

"I know. Claire, there is no life for us out there in the world. I am a beast and you are an angel. You are precious! Too go with me into the world would mean you'd have to hide those gifts you possess. You'd be on the run from the face of humanity and all its cruelties. Even with my mask on I am no man that can be accepted into society with open arms. My place is in the Opera House. Your place is back home with your parents." Claire could not believe what she was hearing.

"You don't mean this!" she retorted, "We were going to run away together and get married!" Erik smiled and wiped a tear from Claire's face.

"I thought about it," He said, "You deserve more." Claire grabbed onto Erik tightly, refusing to let go.

"I can not leave you," she wailed, "I love you!" Erik nodded and kissed the top of her head. What a sight they must have been…beauty and the beast.

"You will know love again Claire," he comforted. Claire shook her head.

"But you will not." Erik chuckled.

"I will never love another again. I will always love you." Claire grimaced at this thought but kept her words to herself. She just wanted to be held by him.

"You will go home after opening night," he said, "It will be your final and most triumphant performance." Claire tried to match Erik's enthusiasm for her new life but she could not find it in her.

"Will you be there?" she asked.

"Yes I will be there…but you will not see me." Claire felt the tears pour down her cheeks. The rivers of sorrow Erik collected in his hand.

"Erik," Claire said softly, "Make love to me."

He nodded and gently lifted her from the ground. She had never been carried so lovingly before. She closed her eyes and listened to the steady beating of Erik's heart as they went down to his home.


	26. A Lasting Night

**The story is slowly coming to a close. I've decided to finish it up because I think I've said all I can say. Enjoy the last few chapters…**

Claire awoke the next morning alone in Erik's bed. Her body still tingled from the nights unending pleasures. She pulled the covers over her naked breasts and sighed contentedly. She kept a vigilant watch for Erik. He appeared a few minutes later. She did not greet him but instead watched him. He was so self conscious of his face he had put the mask back on to please himself. Claire hated seeing him this way.

"Did I wake you?" he asked as he lowered himself back down next to her. Claire shook her head.

"Do you really feel that naked without your mask on?" Claire asked, "You wear no clothes, you bear yourself before me. Why put that hideous thing back on your face?" Erik looked ashamed. Claire could not understand why.

"I love you," she said, reaching out to touch him, "You know I treasure every part of you." Erik nodded and let her small hand run down the front of his chest.

"I know," he whispered and lay down beside her. His large arms wrapped around her making her feel secure and loved. He pressed his forehead against the base of her neck. She could feel the tears run down her skin.

"Please don't cry," Claire exclaimed. She knew he couldn't help it.

"I'm loosing you," he cried, "And I'm doing it because the thought of keeping you from everything you've ever wanted kills me! All those things on the roof I said were true and now I know I meant everything. I am going to send you away…forever." The pain in his voice was so intense Claire almost broke down herself. She decided it was wise for one of them to be calm. She clutched one of his hands tightly and kissed it. His skin was cold and clammy.

"You know I will stay," she told him. She felt him shake his head.

"No! I will not do that to you." Claire didn't know what to say after that. His own decision would drive him mad. Claire stayed silent until she could not bear to listen to his sobbing anymore. She turned to him.

"I do not care what you say," she reassured him, "I am not leaving you." At these words Erik's tears suddenly stopped. Confusion and wonder clouded his eyes.

"But you will not be able to live the life fitting of you!" he cried. Claire put a finger to his lips.

"The only life I want to live is one with you." She smiled then and all the tension lifted. Erik brought her close to him and kissed her again and again. Claire accepted every kiss like it was her last.

"But why?" he said after his kisses had ebbed. Claire wrapped her arms around his neck and told him,

"Because a life without you, Erik, would kill me as well." Erik smiled brightly and brought her lips to his and they exchanged passionate kisses. Claire's whole body seemed to be filled to the brim with undiluted happiness. She was not going to loose Erik. This thought thrilled her. She wanted to spend the rest of her life with this man, even if they did have to do it in secrecy.

"I have never been happier." Erik nodded.

"For the first time…I think I am truly happy." Claire beamed brightly and closed her eyes. She wanted to fall asleep in her lover's arms again, even if she was going to spend the rest of her life with him.

"In my embrace you'll find my heart," Claire sang quietly as she drifted into sleep. She could not be certain but she believed she heard Erik sing softly in response,

"Claire I love you."


	27. Death's Embrace

**Thank you all for reading. I love each and every one of you. The song at the end is "Love Song for a Vampire" from Bram Stoker's Dracula performed by Annie Lennox. It fit the story very well. Be sure to read my other story if you want… I promise you won't be disappointed. Cheers! **

Claire was returned above after a few more hours of play between the two. With these memories in her mind she made it through the rest of the week without seeing him. The opening night of Ill Muto was upon her. This was truly an exciting time. That night she packed her things before retiring to the dressing room she would get changed in. She was not center stage that night but she felt as though she was. She knew Erik would be watching her from a silent perch somewhere. Madame Giry cast watchful and intense glances her way as she stretched backstage.

"Your posture has gotten terrible," she scolded Claire as she made her way down the line. Claire silently hated her.

The performance was magnificent and the audience roared their approval. Claire felt that her last night at the Opera House was well spent. As the curtains closed and the cast was lined up for curtain call, Claire rushed away. She wanted to get a head start without anyone being the wiser. She rushed towards the dormitories. She moved as if the devil were hot on her tail.

Halfway there she was grabbed and pulled into a dark corner. She didn't even need to question who it was. His lips on her said it all. She held him tightly.

"Dear god I've missed you," he said as he covered her face with kisses. She returned his love without question. How she had missed him.

"In less than an hour we will leave this place behind us!" Claire cried. Erik smiled broadly and lifted her off the ground. Her lips came to rest on the side of his neck. His flesh was cold. He placed her back on the ground but did not loosen his grip on her.

"Go now," he commanded, "Get your things. We can leave in secret." Claire nodded and after giving him one last kiss she continued her sprint towards her room. When she got there she paused before going into the room. This would be the last time she ever stepped foot in there.

As she reached for the door knob, a spasm sent her lungs into a fit. She began to cough violently. Her hand fell away from the handle and she leaned against the wall. A trickle of blood came from the corner of her mouth. She waited until the gagging stopped and wiped the blood away with the sleeve of her costume. She didn't want to alarm Erik.

Upon opening the door she was met with a sharp pain. At first she thought she might have run into something but that thought was quickly pushed from her mind. Madame Giry stood in front of her, an evil and knowing smile on her wrinkled face. Claire looked down at her belly and her eyes went wide. The handle of a knife protruded from her stomach. She looked back up to Madame Giry and collapsed onto the floor. Her vision was swimming. She could feel the blood as it cascaded from her wound.

"Good evening darling," she said coldly. Claire's breathing was heavy and irregular. She looked towards the door with hopeful eyes. Madame Giry made a sound in the back of her throat and closed the door.

"No one will be bothering us," she reassured. Giry took a seat in a chair she had pulled up beside Claire.

"Why?" Claire managed to get out. Madame Giry smiled wickedly. She took her cane and poked near the wound making Claire cry out in agony.

"You took him away," the dance instructor cried, "He loves you and not me!" Claire couldn't believe what she was hearing.

"You're so young and beautiful. Everything I can't be for him. How could he resist someone like you?" Claire felt the tears stream down her face. She was dying at the hand of someone she had considered a mother. Madame Giry laughed and stood.

"Oh, I know someone who would love to see this," she yelled, "Come and see her die Erik!" Claire waited, knowing he would hear and come. There was a moment of silence and then a panel in the wall opened.

"What have you done!" he screamed. Giry smiled and pointed at Claire's body.

"I've only done what her illness started. She would have been dead anyway." With a cry of rage, Erik threw Madame Giry to the floor and kneeled beside Claire. He collected her tiny body in his arms. He reached for the knife but she stopped him.

"It will only make it worse my love," she whispered, the life flowing from her body in red rivers. Erik could not hold her close for fear of hurting her further.

"I can't let you die," he sobbed. Claire smiled weakly and lifted her hand. It found the edge of his mask. She removed it.

"She was right Erik, I was dying." Erik shook his head and began to sob. He didn't want to accept it.

"Please," she pleaded, "Just be with me now." He nodded. Madame Giry stirred on the floor from where she fell.

"We would have been happy," he said. Claire didn't respond but simply smiled. Erik's sobs became louder. Claire did not want to hear him in such pain. Her eyes began to feel heavy and the chills took over her body.

"Now I'm as cold as you," she joked. Erik tried to humor her but did nothing but continue to cry. He leaned down and kissed her lips, already paled by the throes of death. She returned the kiss but without as much force. Her time was almost up.

"I love you," Erik said and then began to softly sing, "Say you'll share with me one love one lifetime, save me lead me from my solitude. Say you'll need me with you here beside you. Anywhere you go let me go to…" At that last line he could not continue on. He knew he could not follow her into death. He ran a hand through her hair and then knew she had left him. Her eyes stared blankly at the world, unseeing.

"Claire…that's all I ask of you," he finished and closed her eyes. He kissed her forehead and brought her cold body to his. For once he was the warm one. He knew he still had Madame Giry to deal with but that would come in time. All he could do now was hold Claire tightly; she had finally come to rest in Death's Embrace.

_**Come into these arms again  
And lay your body down  
There's a lovers trembling heart  
Is beating like a drum  
It beats for you  
It bleeds for you  
It knows not how it sounds  
For it is the drum of drums  
It is the song of songs**_

Once I had the rarest rose  
That ever deigned to bloom  
Cruel winter chilled the bulb  
And stole my flower too soon  
Oh loneliness  
Oh hopelessness  
To search the ends of time  
For there is in all the world  
No greater love than mine

Love O love O love  
O love O love O love  
O love Still falls the rain (still falls the rain)  
Love O love O love  
O love O love O love  
O love Still falls the night  
Love O love O love  
O love O love O love  
O love Be mine forever (be mine forever)  
Love O love O love  
O love O love O love  
O love O love O love  
O love O love O love

Let me be the only one  
To keep you from the cold  
Now the floor of heaven is laid  
With stars of brightest gold  
They shine for you  
They shine for you  
They burn for all to see  
Come into these arms again  
And set this spirit free


End file.
